


Reality's Dreams

by Mayonaka_no_Tenshi



Series: The Dreaming Mind of Reality's Heart [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, POV Solas, Reality Dreaming, Slow Burn, Trespasser Spoilers, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 118,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayonaka_no_Tenshi/pseuds/Mayonaka_no_Tenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't expect her to survive, but she does.<br/>He expects her to be like all the others, but she isn't.<br/>He knows he should keep his distance, but he can't</p><p>Solas POV for "Reality Dreaming". Gives an alternate view of some of those events and delves into Solas' motivations and development along that storyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers and thank you for being here!
> 
> Just a quick note, this is intended to be read in conjunction with "Reality Dreaming" as a second view of those events. Even so, I have tried to explain everything clearly enough that it could be read alone while also avoiding repeating too much of the main story verbatim. And for those who have read the main story first, there will inevitably be some repetition, but I try to keep this to a minimum and include only the most relevant segments.
> 
> Again, all my thanks for reading! Have a wonderful day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Reality Dreaming Ch. 1-6

He watches her as she lays upon the cold stone floor, breath nearly imperceptible; another failure, another victim of his miscalculations. His magic burned into her palm, her survival seems an unlikely prospect. The life within her is dwindling, barely detectable now, the Anchor too seeming to weaken as he's studied it, trying to find some way it could be removed, transferred, or otherwise utilized for it's intended purpose, but there is no influence he can assert over it now. The magic may have been his, but the Anchor is now completely in her possession. Such a waste. All his planning and the Anchor is inaccessible, useless, and likely to be gone soon.

And here he is, watching as his plans crumble before him, still lacking most of his power, and the orb still out of reach. He can only hope it still remains somewhere in or near where the temple had been.

He studies the still body, so small and vulnerable in this unconscious state. He might have wondered what sort of person she had been but the marks across her face tell him enough. Of all the people to end up with his magic upon them it has to be one of the Dalish. Of course, if she doesn't wake up, it won't matter anyway. And how can she? She had supposedly passed physically through the Fade, who knows how such a journey may have affected her. Then there was his mark upon her hand, tied to the Breach. If the Breach continued to grow it would surely kill her. No, there is little chance she will ever wake, it would take some kind of miracle and he is not one to believe in such things.

There is nothing more to be done here. One final chance, up the mountain with Cassandra's soldiers, one more attempt, he will try to seal the rifts himself. If he fails, he will leave, escape back into the wilderness out of the Seeker's reach, he should have enough power to stop any who might follow. Perhaps he can find and reclaim the orb, find some way to clean up this mess. What other choice does he have?

Standing up he takes one final look at the unconscious form, and the still flickering magic attached to it, before heading back into the cold morning through the heavy door. The harsh vibration of the Breach looming above, fills his senses as he steps out into the cold. Even within the stone walls he can feel it but it is much stronger out here, like a low vibration crawling beneath the skin and working it's way into his bones. Everything about it tells him it is wrong, the Veil was never meant to be ripped apart in this fashion, it is causing nothing but damage to both sides. Though he knows it's form without having to see it, he still turns his head to look up at it briefly, before setting off to find the Seeker.

It doesn't take long for him to find her. She turns at his approach with a stern and questioning expression, "Is there any improvement on the prisoner's condition?"

"There is no change and there is nothing else I can do for her, either she will wake or she will not. I doubt we have long to wait either way, with the Breach growing as it is." The Seeker's displeasure at his words is clear, but he keeps going anyway, "I would like to return to the mountain, I would like to study a rift directly, perhaps I can better understand the magic involved that way, or determine some way to close it."

The frown deepens as she looks at him, "Do you believe she will wake?"

"I..." he hesitates, not sure of her reaction, but decides on the truth, "I believe it is unlikely."

The large woman face is hard and clearly displeased as she considers this news, "Very well. There is a patrol leaving shortly, they will accompany you. Learn what you can from the rift and report it back to me."

He nods and turns to join the patrol. He has no intention of ever making such a report. 

 

***

 

The Breach flashes above, the power of it pulses through the Veil, raw and threatening.

In the dark, a flash of green draws a small moan as the figure bearing it inches back towards consciousness.

 

***

 

He has failed yet again.

None of his efforts have any effect on the rift above them. They have been fighting off the demons as best they can but unless the rift is closed they will just keep coming.

He begins to maneuver himself towards the edge of the fighting, hoping to make his escape amidst the chaos of the battle, when he feels something familiar at the edge of his senses. His attention is drawn back down the path to see Cassandra heading towards them, a smaller figure following a short distance behind. A flash of green shimmers as her left hand reaches for the blades at her back, clinging to them as she runs at the nearest demon, fear is clear on her face even as her determination pushes her forward.

_It can't be._ He feels the pulse of the anchor, even amidst the chaos of the rift and the demons, which are finally beginning to thin out with their arrival, but next to it's familiar spark there is other magic surrounding it, mingled with it. She must be a mage. Why had he not been able to sense it from her before? Yet she does not use any magic now, she continues to fight clumsily with the blades in her hands.

_Why doesn't she use her magic if she had no skill with weapons? Could it be that she does not know how? Does she even realize her own power?_ Her magic is not weak, he can tell that much, but little else. _Could the explosion have changed her? Her passage through the Fade? The Anchor itself?_ He doesn't think so but he has no other explanations.

The demons are nearly gone when he realizes that as he has continued fighting he has simultaneously been moving slowly towards her, his intention to run forgotten. He is only a few steps away when he feels the final demon fall. The flash of the Anchor catches his eye and without another thought he acts, "Quick, before more come through!" He shouts and grabs the small wrist, holding tightly as she automatically tries to pull away. He sends his own power into her, in part to help trigger and guide the connection, but also to begin to gauge her power and ability.

He feels it as the Anchor and rift connect, power merging as the Anchor succeeds in shutting the tear in the Veil as if it had never been. A wave of relief hits him and he lets go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, releasing the girl's hand and withdrawing his own magic at the same time. 

Perhaps not all is lost, perhaps a chance remains to turn around his failure. Here she stands before him, a miracle he does not believe in, but standing there just the same, and it changes everything.

She turns to face him then, "What did you do?" Her bright grey eyes meet his, curious and unsure, but there is something else is in them as well, something oddly like recognition, but he has to be mistaken.

He dons the humble, disarming mask he's adopted among these people. He needs her to trust him. "I did nothing. The credit it yours," he offers a friendly smile meant to put her at ease. Her eyes narrow slightly at his words however, as if not believing him, so he tries to explain, "Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky is also what placed that mark upon your hand. I have theorized the mark may be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake. And clearly, I was correct." His efforts to appease her seeming doubts are apparently unsuccessful however, as she continues to look at him with some kind of skepticism for which he cannot determine an explanation.

Cassandra steps forward then, drawing his attention away from the girl, "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

"It's possible," he replies, nodding at the Seeker to acknowledge her words before returning his focus to the newcomer, "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

Why is she looking at him like that? Like he is both familiar and strange, as if seeking answers in his face. He finds it rather disconcerting and is relieved when the dwarf rogue speaks then and draws her attention away from him.

By the time Varric has finished his introductions, Solas has recollected himself and wears a soft smile again to offer his own introduction. As the conversation continues, it seems as if her attention is repeatedly being drawn back towards him and each time she seems to be looking for something, but he remains unable to discern a reason for such behavior. She couldn't have recognized his magic, surely, and it is impossible that they have met previously. He finds himself puzzled and unnerved at her strange attention.

He finally finds relief from her searching eyes the moment he asks her name causing a sudden panic to flash across her face. It was not the reaction he'd been expecting to such a normal question. Everything about her up to now had been unexpected and confusing. _Who is she?_

"You can call me Lyara," she finally declares.

"A pleasure," he replies, showing no reaction to the obvious struggle she demonstrated at the request. Now it is time to see if anything he's guessed about her is right. He turns back to the Seeker, "Cassandra, You should know, the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine that any mage could be so powerful, much less one so obviously inexperienced."

The shocked response is immediate, "Wait, what?! I don't have any magic, that can't be true!" Her wide-eyed surprise makes it clear that the magic she clearly possesses is indeed new to her.

He soon regrets the suddenness of his announcement though, as the Seeker immediately turns renewed suspicion onto her prisoner, he should have realized the woman would react badly to such news. Whatever the girl is, she's not responsible for what had happened here, but the simple fact of her being a mage would unfortunately be viewed as a mark against her in this world. It is infuriating, but he reins in his feelings for another time, and does what he can to ease the larger woman's fears, hoping she believes his assessment of the girl's abilities.

He finally turns back to the girl to further confirm his suspicions, "Tell me, Lyara, are you able to use your magic in any way?"

"No, of course not, I didn't have any idea I had it until just now. I have certainly felt a lot of magic, or something, in the air, and there's the power in the mark but..."

She has some ability to sense the magic around her, he realizes with slight surprise, but how much? "So you can feel the magic around you?"

"Yes, it's around the rifts, the demons, ...you. The Breach feels like it's making everything vibrate, like an insistent hum just below the surface of everything," her trepidation at the sensations is clear in her voice.

More surprises. He anticipated she would feel the Breach, and even the rifts but that she can sense demons and the power of another mage is unexpected. She is much more sensitive than all but a few mages. No wonder she is so frightened, the sensations must be quite overwhelming for someone so unused to such things. He would have to test her ability further, to determine just how far this talent extended, once they were not in so much peril that is. For now he simply seeks to reassure her, or failing that, at least offer some explanation for her new perceptions, "That is a sign that you do indeed possess magic, otherwise you would not be able to feel what you do. Have you ever felt such things before?"

"Well, no, but I just thought, with all that's going on..." Her uncertainty and confusion is clear and he feels some slight pity for her. To have lived so cut off from magic all her life and now to be so submerged in it. To feel like one is drowning in what should be giving them life and vitality. And it is his fault.

"I see." He hides his thoughts as he addresses the situation at hand. "Cassandra, while the emergence of her power at this time is curious, I do not believe it could have possibly triggered what has happened, more likely it is just another side effect of the immense power that was unleashed." He hopes that this explanation will at least ease some of the Seeker's suspicions, which will only serve to hinder them in their mission if left unchecked.

Fortunately the Seeker chooses to believe him and they are able to proceed without further argument.

As they move, he continues to observe the strange mage, whom fate somehow chose to bear his mark. It is more than apparent that she is inexperienced in more than just magic, and that she is terrified. Her fear is such that he continually expects her to try to run or hide or otherwise shy away from the demons and general chaos around her. Her fear is nearly a palpable thing and yet she continues to stand with them, rallying herself to fight and yet managing to maintain enough control and sense not to rush in where she would put herself or others in unreasonable danger. She stays close to him and Varric most of the time, doing her best to defend them when needed but ready to follow their instructions and get out of the way. The one thing she doesn't do is back down, she is a brave soul and he has to give her some credit for that.

Still, she knows nothing of fighting and she is in constant danger as a result; as much as she tries to defend them, they spend more time defending her. He does his best to keep her covered with a barrier at all times as well, it is easier to simply protect her from any blows she receives than trying to prevent them from hitting her, he does not have the time and focus for that but he must do what he can to keep her safe. She possesses the mark and he needs that, if she is lost, it will be too. He has lost enough, he cannot sacrifice the Anchor if there is any way to keep it safe. He will make sure she reaches the Breach no matter what and with her clear lack of skill, he thinks success unlikely without the barriers.

He is frequently torn between admiration and annoyance with her. She bears her fear well and refuses to back down, but most of her efforts are ineffective and he and Varric often have to direct their efforts towards keeping her safe before they can commit their focus back to the enemy. There are a few times her efforts are beneficial but those are in the minority

After a particularly bad fight where she was apparently unable to avoid getting hit by every wraith in the area he decides to go to her and suggest that she might prefer to just stay back, away from the fights from now on. As he approaches he catches sight of her face, miserable with frustrated helplessness, and it causes him to stop in his tracks, suddenly unsure of what he will say. He watches as Varric approaches her, and tries to make her feel better.

"I know I'm useless and I don't want any of you to get hurt because of my mistakes." Her words ring with a distinctly ashamed tone to them.

_Is that what she is thinking? After all but rising from the dead that morning and having her life in constant danger all the way up this mountain and she is more concerned about us getting hurt?_ He shakes his head in confusion and turns away, moving back in the direction of their path.

The demons at the second rift are dealt with in fairly short order and she only hesitates a moment, glancing back at him, before raising her left hand and sealing the rift. He is gratified to see she can easily close the rifts on her own now. _Perhaps, this will work after all._

 

***

 

They resupply and are able to enjoy a short time in the relative safety of the forward camp. However, listening to the argument with the Chancellor grates on his nerves. He almost smiles as the girl vents some of her own frustration at the petty bickering, "How do you expect to keep anyone safe as long as that THING is in the sky?!" At least she is properly aware of what the priority should be and the anger seems to push back some of her fear.

When they finally leave the camp he sees that the girl seems to stand a little taller. The fear remains but she is clearly fighting it.

He isn't sure why she chose the mountain path, it seems the rougher path but they encounter few enemies there. As they head up the mountain her fear changes to simple cold. He watches her do her best to control the shivering and he begins feeling sorry for her then. She is clearly out of place here, he can only wonder what twist of fate brought her to the Conclave. And then to have the Anchor thrust upon her, to wake up with the sky broken and the world against her... Apparently she remembers very little of the experience and that must make it even more frightening he supposes. He knows well enough what it is like to wake up with the world utterly changed, and powerless to do much about it, she likely felt something slightly similar when she awoke that morning.

It was with this new sympathy that he responds to her request for some kind of magic to fight the cold. It costs him little to help her and the others this way, besides, he can not allow her to fall due to numb hands, not when they are now so close.

When she asks about seeing in the dark, he can't help but smile slightly at the earnest yet childlike curiosity she expresses. If she survives today, it will likely fall to him to begin teaching her something of the magic she possesses. She will at least need to learn some amount of control over her magic, for her own safety. So he willingly offers an answer to her inquiry: "It is possible to do, but it takes quite a bit of energy, I would not be able to sustain the effects for all four of us for as long as it will take us to reach the other end of this passage, especially if we find demons inside."

"I guess that makes sense, I was mostly just curious. Thanks for telling me," she says with a small grateful smile.

"Think nothing of it. If we are successful in closing the Breach perhaps I can help you learn more about your newly realized powers."

"I hope we get that chance."

He hopes so too. The Breach needs to be closed and after that he may still need her help, so it would be best if she survives.

They get through the tunnel without too much trouble, the girl generally managing to stay out of the way and watch their backs with moderate effectiveness.

They find Cassandra's missing people near another rift, fighting a losing battle. There were more demons here than the previous rifts, and he is concerned with how long it might take them to clear all the demons and close the rift. Shortly after they begin fighting, he feels the Anchor as it connects to the rift. _What is she doing?_ He turns to try to stop her, or warn her, or something; but then there is a flash of power and he can feel a change in the rift and the demons they are fighting. Somehow she has disrupted the rift, allowing them time to clear now the weakened demons as new ones are prevented from appearing for a short time. The battle finishes quickly after that and she closes the rift immediately. What made her think to try such a thing, he has no idea but it was an inspired move and would clearly be invaluable if these rifts are as widespread as he fears.

He begins to wonder if she will ever stop surprising him as he approaches her after the battle, "One more sealed, you are becoming quite proficient at this." She smiles, and it is a little more genuine this time. For some reason he feels glad to see it.

Not a minute later and she is surprising him again when she reveals her reasoning for choosing the path they are on. Travelling this way was slower and could be viewed as riskier in lacking the support of more soldiers, but she was willing to take that risk for the chance of saving these people. It is a kind of wonder to him that someone so clearly terrified is yet willing to make decisions based on consideration for others. He does not know if he supports her choice, but he has to respect her ability to make it in such circumstances.

 

***

 

The temple had been utterly destroyed and the land upon which it lay, corrupted. He reaches out, trying to detect some sense of his orb, but he feels nothing. He hopes it is simply the Breach and the other corrupt elements that are somehow interfering with his ability to sense it. He doesn't truly believe that's the case, but if the orb is not here, then where could it have gone?

The girl's fear, which had seemed to recede for a time, now seems to nearly overwhelm her as they enter what remains of the temple. The pulse of the Breach is much more like a deep throb here, it saturates the air and reverberates through the ground. When the voices start it is a surprise. He quickly determines what has caused them, but the sounds unnerve him nonetheless. When they discover the red lyrium he finds the sensation of its presence to be utterly repulsive and he watches the girl as she struggles against the nearly paralyzing affects of the near panic induced by all of these things. If she is anywhere near as sensitive as he, he can hardly blame her for being so adversely affected by it. He too hates being here, but it is a necessity. Just a little closer, and if the Breach can be closed, it should improve matters immensely.

The vision that manifests is a bit of a shock to all of them and it proves his fears. Though the image is distorted, he knows that Corypheus had been here, and that it is he who is responsible for this horror they now face. But what exactly happened? How had this girl ended up with the Anchor and where was Corypheus or the orb now? The vision did nothing to answer any of his questions. The Seeker immediately begins questioning the girl but it seems she has no answers to give either.

These questions have to wait however, the more pressing matter is that of the Breach, "Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place." He explains, hoping to prevent further debate about the visions before moving on to the issue at hand. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark the rift can be reopened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side." He looks to the girl upon finishing his speech, she seems distracted somehow, but she apparently has heard and understood because she quickly prepares herself at the Seeker's call. The score of soldiers Leliana has brought with her spread out and position themselves for a fight.

At a signal from the Seeker, the girl raises her hand and opens the rift, power and demons spilling forth in a great wave.

The battle seems to drag on, new demons continue to appear but the girl is smart enough to remain focused on trying to disrupt the rift rather than fight. It is the only thing that keeps them from being overwhelmed. Slowly, they reduce the number of demons and the girl manages to slowly increase disruption times, which lead to their eventual success in clearing the area. The moment the last demon perishes, the Seeker's voice rings out again calling for the rift to be closed.

He watches the girl raise her hand without hesitation, power flowing almost effortlessly now. He feels the connection, feels her pushing the rift closed. For a moment everything seems poised on an edge, unmoving, unchanging, like a boulder poised atop a cliff and there is not enough force to push it over the edge. _What if it doesn't work? What else was there to try?_ And then there's a shift, a small nudge pushing past the edge, a little more, and then it is as if a giant door slams. The rift shuts, sending a shockwave out, closing the Breach. He lets out a sigh of relief before looking back to the girl, now collapsed on the ground.

He hurries over. Had the shock been too much? Had the effort to close the rift drained her somehow? He bends over her, studying her, reaching for her pulse with his hand the same time he reaches with his senses to see if the life in her magic remains. After a few tense moments, he feels both, very faint but steady. The Anchor too seems to be stable now. A second sigh of relief escapes him as he looks up to find The Seeker, Spymaster, and dwarf waiting for his assessment.

"She lives, but the effort of closing the rift has drained her almost entirely. She is unlikely to reawaken soon. She will need rest for a few days."

"And the Breach? Is it closed as you hoped?" the Seeker asks solemnly.

"It is closed and should be safe for the time being. I was right in thinking that the mark is the key, but to seal the Breach completely will take more power than she alone can provide. We will need help."

His gaze falls again to the small unconscious figure before him. She looks nearly the same as she had that morning and yet utterly changed. She somehow seems more real now, as if there is a small spark where once there was only emptiness. She now bears more substance in her being, small as it is, than anything he has yet encountered in this sundered world. He can't place what it is about her that gives him this impression, perhaps it is simply due to the mark, the fact that his own magic is now part of her. When she awakes he will have a chance to study her further.

 

***

 

They bring her down from the mountain and back to Haven. She is placed in a cabin and monitored with care. He occasionally checks on her to confirm that the mark has remained stable.

Whispers of 'Andraste's Herald' begin to spread throughout the town before even a day has passed. A prisoner, an elf, and a mage, now raised to a position of religious icon as she sleeps. How much more will her world have changed before she awakes again? He again feels a pang of sympathy for the girl and can only hope she will bear such changes better than he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all my dear readers!
> 
> I hope you found this different angle interesting. I'll be continuing weekly updates either here or on [Reality Dreaming](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5079985/chapters/11682196). Next week is definitely back to the main story though, hope to see you there soon.
> 
> Feel free to drop me a line anytime, here or on tumblr at [mayonaka-no-tenshi](http://mayonaka-no-tenshi.tumblr.com)


	2. Second Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She isn't at all what he expects and he is captivated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to chapter 10 in "Reality Dreaming"

She sleeps for three days. During this time he keeps mostly to himself. He studies for the most part, though he ventures out once to check the status of the Breach for Cassandra. There was almost nothing that could be determined by approaching the area that could not have been done from Haven, but the Seeker had insisted. The Breach is closed and stable and likely to stay that way for long enough that they will be able to obtain sufficient help in closing it.

He checks on the girl briefly each day as well, mostly to confirm there has been no significant changes in her condition or in the mark, which also appears stable now.

He goes out from time to time to get food or gather herbs but he prefers to stay in his cabin for the most part. The girl's position had risen rapidly in the wake of her success closing The Breach, but he remains nothing more than an elf and an apostate in the eyes of most of those in Haven, and neither position will earn him any favor. He continues to consider leaving, it might be safer, but he wants to wait and see what this Herald will do next. If their aim to close the Breach remains shared they might be able to aid each other. He will wait, a little longer. After she wakes, he will decide.

 

***

 

The morning she wakes there is a lot of commotion about. He ventures out into the town later that day for a time, to hear what others are saying. She had apparently made a brief appearance that morning, heading directly for the Chantry. Chancellor Roderick had then come stalking out not long after, fuming. A few had seen her leave the Chantry only to return to her cabin but she had not reemerged. He walks by the area where her cabin is located and does indeed sense her presence within. He hesitates before passing nearby, afraid she will notice his presence too, but he does not linger longer than is necessary to simply note her whereabouts and that she is conscious, as the increased strength of her aura indicates clearly.

He resolves to wait a couple of days before approaching her, allowing her time to acclimate to her new situation, but the next afternoon he is mildly surprised to notice her approach. She steps up to the door and he hears her knock firmly. At his invitation the door opens slowly and he looks up to greet her.

Her eyes flit briefly across the scene, taking in the room and the books before settling on him and again filling with that look full of searching recognition; a look which he continues to find unsettling in his lack of ability to determine an explanation for it.

"Hello Solas, I hope I'm not bothering you," her nervousness coming through in her slightly hesitant voice.

"Not at all, I welcome a visit from the chosen of Andraste, the blessed hero sent to save us all," he answered, testing to see how she was taking her new position.

The smile she responds with is bright in its amusement, "And am I riding in on a shining steed? or maybe a Unicorn?"

"I would have suggested a griffon but sadly they are extinct, as are the unicorns I'm afraid. Joke as you will, posturing is necessary. I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war has its heroes, I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

She continues to smile but something has changed, for a moment it's as if she has gotten lost in a memory, but her expression quickly transitions into some kind of thoughtful consideration before she speaks again, revealing some of those hidden thoughts, "I am fascinated by what you say you've seen in the Fade and I hope you will tell me more later, but at the moment I'm afraid I'll only be a dead hero without a significant amount of help. I came here partly to thank you for your help on the mountain, I'm not sure I'd still be here otherwise."

He is slightly taken aback, but he does not to let this surprise show, instead replying, "You're thanks is not necessary, the Breach is a threat to everything and I was glad to be able to assist you in closing it. Still I do appreciate your taking the time to come and offer your thanks in person."

She continues to defy expectation this time by her apparent interest in the Fade and her wish to thank him in this way. Neither are what he would expect from any of these people, most especially one of the Dalish. He studies the woman before him, trying to determine what it is about her he had somehow missed. What other surprises might she reveal?

"Necessary or not, I do truly appreciate what you've done," she replies, becoming nervous again under his scrutiny. She takes a breath before speaking again and revealing the reason for her visit. "I was also hoping you could help me some more. You said I was a mage. I'm still not even sure I believe it, but if it's true then I hope you will help me to understand and properly use whatever power it is I possess. I'm sure it could come in useful but I'm also worried about inadvertently lighting something on fire. Having some unknown abilities that I do not understand and therefore can't control makes me rather nervous."

"You are wise to see the potential risk of your situation and I would be pleased to instruct and guide you." He pauses slightly, coming to a decision, "I will stay then, at least until The Breach has been closed."

He can see in her a willingness to learn and he is admittedly curious about this unusual Dalish girl who has somehow come to possess the Anchor. It is worth staying to see what would come of this situation and possibly advantageous, if he has some influence over matters.

"Oh, were you planning to leave?" Her question is sincere, though it doesn't sound as surprised as he might have expected.

"I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces, in the middle of a mage rebellion and, unlike you, I do not have a 'divine mark' protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my concern at remaining here for any length of time," he answers drily.

"You came here to help, Solas, and I need that help, we need that help. I'm not going to let them hold the fact that you are a mage, an apostate, or an elf, against you!"

He appreciates the words, but doubts such promises would hold up if tested, "How will you stop them?"

"Any way I have to!"

The sudden force of her words does surprise him, but more surprising is the surge of emotion as it flares within her aura.

"I don't know a single spell, and I can barely hold a dagger but if I have any authority as some supposed 'Chosen One', I will use it and the few abilities I do possess to prevent anyone dragging away one of my best hopes of surviving any of this for nothing more than bigotry!"

The passion of her words are unmistakable now, the pulse of her magic flaring in response, filling the room with its intensity, as if the very idea of the threat to him was a direct threat to herself. He can see a fire in her now that had been hidden before, waiting for the right provocation. Perhaps her words are not so empty as he had believed.

He watches her fury dissipate as she closes her eyes, breathing slowly, regaining her calm, aura returning nearly to normal with just an edge of heat remaining. She has fire indeed, but also knows how to control it. It is not a trait he has found common in this world, especially in one of her apparent youth.

"Sorry," She murmurs after a couple moments to regain her composure.

He smiles then. He looks at her now and sees a hope he thought was lost when he'd looked upon her in that dark cell. She is more than he expected and perhaps with guidance she could be more still. She is his greatest hope for success, and just maybe she is worthy of that role. So he smiles a genuine smile, meeting her eyes as she looks up, offering his support through his eyes. "There is no need to apologize, I'm truly grateful you feel that way, but let us hope that circumstances will not necessitate such drastic action on your part."

"No, I'd rather it didn't come to that," she smiles slightly. "Anyway, I'm glad you're staying. ...Ummm, so do you have some time? I'd like to get started as soon as possible, I'm sure I have a lot to learn. If you're busy though, I can come back later."

He reassures her that she is not interrupting and invites her to sit. She is apparently still doubtful of her actually being a mage, therefore the first step is to make that fact clear to her. The easiest way is to reawaken her senses to magic. It must have been quite overwhelming for her on the mountain and now it seems to have reflexively shut down as a result. Allowing her to feel the magic around her in a safe environment should prove her abilities sufficiently for the time being. It will also be useful for him to further study just how much capacity she has to sense magic, not only to satisfy his own curiosity, but also because it will affect how she will be able to learn magical techniques.

He watches her as she concentrates with her eyes closed, a searching look on her face as she tries to relax and reach out listening to his voice as he guides her. Her expressions are subtle as she struggles to open herself up to these new senses anew, her aura reflecting the effort as well.

The moment it happens everything about her changes. A look of wonder fills her face, her aura becomes alive with a kind of raw excitement and joy and he cannot help the smile it now brings to his own face, "It seems you were successful," and he cannot hold back the small chuckle that comes with the words. It is another surprise though that her focus still seems to be on the room at large, clearly she is able to sense how his own magic and aura has filled this room he has claimed as his own. He had expected her focus to turn directly to him as the source. She is unusually sensitive, more so than anticipated. Though he had already explained to her that the level of her ability was not so common, he decides to keep just how rare to himself for the time being.

As she finally opens her eyes and looks upon him again, he actually stops breathing for a moment. He can see in her eyes that she _sees_ him, sees him completely or certainly much more than anyone else in this world has managed. He is real to her, they way he defines real, the way she is more real to him than any of the others. Her aura speaks to him and he can hear it. She may not be able to understand what she senses now but she is aware of it, it's there and real for her, and seeing that truth in her eyes hits him hard. He had not thought such a thing would be possible here, and feeling it now forces him to recognize just how much he has longed for it. For once he is glad he was wrong.

She looks away again after a few moments, going back to the room at large, "This is actually pretty amazing now that I don't have to worry about being attacked at any moment."

"It is also a very useful ability," he smiles at her obvious wonder. "I believe it will help you greatly as you discover other skills. If you are ready I will begin by explaining some basic principles of magic which you will need to understand before you actually try to use any magic."

Finally, he begins explaining some of the basic principles that will be necessary in getting started with understanding magic. She quickly proves to be an attentive listener and is able to grasp concepts swiftly. Not only that but she is able to look at each idea closely and ask questions to expand her understanding, a _lot_ of questions.

She asks a truly impressive number of questions, though it is not simply the number of questions that impresses him, but the way in which she asks the questions, particularly in regards to more complex concepts. She pauses to take in each new piece of information as if she is looking at it from all angles and then attempting to connect it with the previous pieces; moments later demonstrating that that is exactly what she had done, asking a series of detailed questions all distinct but related to a common concept. She speaks slowly and carefully, trying to make sure each thought is coming across as clearly as possible, choosing her words, with exacting deliberateness.

Seeing the process and hearing the resultant comments and inquiries is so fascinating to him he finds himself introducing more advanced topics than he normally would a fresh beginner just to see what she will do with them.

What is perhaps even more amazing to him is how open she is to everything he says. She shows none of the prejudices or preconceptions he's come to expect in either Dalish or Andrastian traditions. She is clearly Dalish by the marks across her face and yet she shows no other indications of her heritage and it utterly baffles him.

Her words and thoughts are not the only captivating thing about her either. He also observes her as she is thinking or speaking. Though she remains in the chair, she does not seem able to maintain a consistent posture upon it, often folding one or both of her legs under her. Sometimes she kneels on the seat while propping her chin on her arms which are sometimes folded or otherwise draped across the chair's back. Truly, he'd had no idea how many ways one could reasonably position themselves upon such a piece of furniture.

He is also slightly transfixed studying the changes in her face as their conversation progresses. While she listens to him speak she sometimes watches him, seeming to study him while simultaneously taking in his every word. Other times she seems to be looking at nothing, lost in her own contemplations. She often bites her lip when concentrating, sometimes seeming frozen when in deepest concentration; even her aura is almost completely still as she loses herself deep in her thoughts.

Her aura. This is what most sets her apart. For one thing it's stronger than he has encountered previously, denoting the potential power she holds within. Of course, he has spent little time around other mages. The recent conflicts and general attitude toward mages, made even revealing that he was a mage, much less an apostate something he'd wished to avoid. Helping the Inquisition is the first time he's spent any length of time among a group since his waking.

Non-mages possess no readable aura, and those of most of the mages he's encountered are not very strong, often barely readable. It is a reality that hit him as quite a shock as he'd begun encountering this time's denizens. An entire avenue of communication which has been completely cut off, giving the impression that all these people are little more than puppets. Though he's since learned that is not quite the case, it is hard to forget the feeling of it. He feels utterly cut off and disconnected, the world seems an unreal caricature of life.

Since waking he's spent much of his time in the Fade simply to feel that connection with something is still possible. He wants so badly to feel those connections again.

He needs to rebuild the world, repair what was severed, so that such connections can live again, so that people can live again, whole and unbroken.

And yet, here before him is someone he can read to a much greater degree than any other he has yet encountered, and who feels his presence as well, albeit in a still limited fashion. She reminds him of what was lost and it simultaneously pains him, and offers comfort in its familiarity.

However, it is clear she is unused to this ability as she continues to focus on his physical self almost entirely, frequently studying him with her eyes, whereas he may easily observe her without looking. Despite this, he finds his eyes drawn to her frequently, especially when she smiles. Somehow, seeing her smile seems to make everything around her just a little brighter.

He is not eager to be out of her presence, and it seems she is equally inclined to remain where she is and so their conversation continues for hours, which seem to slip by like water.

It isn't until her stomach gives voice to its own requirements that they both realize how long they have been there. He is quickly ashamed at his own selfishness in keeping her there. She is still recovering and he should not hinder her ability to do so.

He tells himself it's because he wishes to ensure her health and make sure she gets appropriate sustenance, but he uncharacteristically decides to accompany her to the tavern, a place he generally prefers to avoid.

As they step out into the chill air she shivers as the breeze sweeps across her skin but she is smiling and her eyes are bright when she asks where they are going.

"The tavern here serves hot meals of surprisingly good quality and I thought it might be nice for you to be around more people for a while," he answers in a friendly way. He does not much care for the company offered here but perhaps she will prefer it.

"Actually, my instinct is to keep to myself, after recent events especially, I feel a little uneasy being out among these people just yet, but I suppose I can't hide forever and it might do me some good."

He doesn't know why he is still surprised by her every reaction but he is. She somehow defies his every expectation.

"I completely understand the inclination, but I find it really can be beneficial to occasionally immerse yourself among the living, even if only for a change of perspective." It is not _completely_ a lie, but only barely.

"Right, which is why you spend all your time in books or The Fade," she teases, though her voice holds no censure, and she smiles warmly at him.

"I did say 'occasionally'." He cannot help smiling at her perceptiveness, somehow she already understands his own discomfort and that alone eases it.

They continue along the path in a comfortable silence, for several long moments, few sounds outside their own soft footsteps as they walk. She falls back and he continues a few steps further before he realizes she has stopped entirely. Looking back he sees her gazing fixedly at the sky, a sense of calm awe throughout her being. "What do you see?" he asks, trying to look in the same direction.

"Just the stars," she answers simply as her eyes start to rove across the great expanse above her. "They're always there," she continues, moving in a slow circle to take in the entire sky, "this huge infinite expanse of shining lights, but we so often get caught up in the moment and our own worries and concerns that we forget about them, about how much is out there, how much we don't know. Sometimes it's just amazing to look up and see it, really see it, and then imagine being out there looking down at this one small world in a sea of stars. It makes the world seem both bigger and smaller at the same time. I mean, it's so small in the universe, it seems like whatever happens here means nothing, and yet this is our ship carrying us through that endless black sea and if any of it has value, why not this? But it is a whole world, not just a single person's concerns, and yet like this lone world, if any of it has value why not the concerns of a single person? Why should any of us be of any less value than one of those stars?"

He looks away from the sky and simply watches her, transfixed as she speaks. He takes in her words, as they paint images he's never considered before, a fact which proves her point. He comprehends her meaning in every word and yet something in the whole eludes him. He sees her seeing something that somehow remains obscured to him, like a riddle he cannot solve. But listening to her speak, he wants to understand, wants to see what she sees as she sees it, but it's as if there is some cloud before him and he just can't quite wrap his head around the truth he can feel is there. Perhaps, in time... For now it is enough to listen to her and to watch.

When she finally falls quiet again and looks at him she seems to become nervous and awkward, "I'm not sure that made any sense, it probably sounds kind of silly but..."

"No, it made perfect sense and it is not silly at all. I think very few are so able to stand outside themselves and their own concerns to see the bigger picture in such a way. Even I am not so gifted as that." And it is true, though he hopes to do better. How could he not want to see what brings her such wonder? How could he not want to answer the questions she raises in him, the mysteries she poses? Perhaps it is something Elvhenan was missing and if he can find it he can make them stronger next time.

She seems a little confused at his response though and more nervous still for some reason, but when she turns and starts walking towards food again, he simply falls into step beside her.

As they enter the tavern Varric immediately calls them over and she doesn't hesitate to head that way. The child of the stone is not someone he knows well, though it is clear many people seem to enjoy his company. To himself, the shorter man feels as blank as the stone his people hail from, yet as they arrive at the table it is clear that she sees him differently. Even as they discuss the day's lesson and her nerves regarding magic he can feel something in her relax and she smiles easily as she listens to the dwarf speak.

Varric does most of the talking as usual, and they eat; the food is as good as promised. She often smiles and laughs at Varric's stories and jokes and he cannot help but watch her, rapt in feeling how the laughter reflects in her aura. He wonders what it is about the dwarf she finds so interesting and listens to the stories more closely, hoping to discern an explanation for it.

He doesn't speak much himself but when he does, she always gives him her full attention and he makes a little more effort to speak as a result.

Eventually her fatigue gets the better of her and she excuses herself, promising more meals with the dwarf and a lesson with him the next day. After she wishes them a good night she leaves and he watches her depart before turning back to the dwarf, "I believe I should retire as well."

He begins to stand when Varric speaks again, "You know, you're more than welcome to come by anytime as well. You should get out more, it would do you good to leave your cabin and join the world a little more, and the Herald clearly has no objection to your rather somber company."

"I shall consider it," he says blankly as he stands to leave.

"A little advice though," Varric interjects before Solas can get away, "the ladies like it when a guy can let down his hair a little, though obviously that would be entirely metaphorical in your case," the man chuckles at his own joke.

Solas frowns slightly. "I believe, Master Tethras, that you possess more than enough hair to make up for any deficiency I possess. I fear if I were to 'let my hair down' as you suggest it would completely overwhelm any who were in the presence of us together."

The man laughs heartily behind him as he leaves the table, "Touché Chuckles."

He isn't sure why he allowed himself to rise to the bait, but as he steps back out into the cold his only regret is that she wasn't there. He thinks she would have laughed too...

He takes the route that leads him past her cabin as he returns to his own, continuing on down the hill once he confirms she is safely inside.

Arriving back at his own cabin he begins to plan their next lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all of my lovely readers! I hope this week finds you well, and if not I hope a little something to read and distract you might make it brighter.
> 
> Here's a little more Solas POV for you all, this chapter hopefully helps set up why he reacts to her in the ways he does later. I have to admit, writing his side of things is proving more challenging than I anticipated but it's been an interesting challenge.  
> I'd like to get a couple more chapters up of this in the near future to get it a little more caught up with where we are in Lya's journey. I've been able to write a little more freely this last week so hopefully I can keep my pace up and get comfortably back on track with everything.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Take care everyone!!


	3. Magic Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lessons begin, and his confusion deepens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to "Reality Dreaming" Ch.12, 15, and the beginning of 16.
> 
> Sorry for the delay guys, I was busy recently and this chapter came out slower than expected so I wasn't able to get it done by the usual time.

He spends the morning in his cabin as usual, reading and studying and thinking. He doesn't know when to expect her arrival, but quickly notices her approach later in the afternoon, and greets her warmly when she arrives. 

The picnic invitation is a surprise. He had planned his lesson for an indoor environment but he quickly considers her proposal to hold the lesson outdoors and decides it will in fact be a much better location for what he has planned. She fears her magic still and the damage it could do. While her caution is wise it could also inhibit her abilities. He is not afraid of any accidents she might cause, as he will be able to counter any potentially dangerous effects with little effort, but her fear alone might cause her to feel unwilling to really use her abilities properly and she might inadvertently block herself from being able to do so.

"Yes, I will join you. It might be better for you to start practicing magic outside and away from others anyway." He stands and moves towards the door to join her.

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you afraid I'll burn down your house?" She means it as a joke but he can sense the real fear behind her words and it confirms moving outside will be the best course.

"No, but clearly it is a concern that you bear. If you hold on to your worry of causing damage, it may prevent you from being able to perform any kind of magic. It will be much better if you are free of distraction and relaxed enough to explore your abilities properly."

He is pleased she accepts the explanation quickly, without a hint of argument, and before long she proceeds to ask more of her usual questions. He finds it doesn't take him long to relax into the unexpected comfort her companionship offers.

She continues to be quite a curiosity to him though. As he leads them past the training area and out towards the lake, he attempts to prod some reaction out of her by mentioning her Dalish heritage but she completely ignores that element of the question in her otherwise clearly honest answer. He is unsure whether she avoids the topic deliberately or simply feels no need to address it. It puzzles him either way, as the Dalish he has had occasion to meet always seemed very proud of their heritage and would not have hesitated to share their appreciation for their culture.

Of course she is very far from her clan now, away from that life. Perhaps there is a reason for that which he is unable to see. Why had she come to the Conclave? She lacked any skills that would generally be considered necessary for a spy. The more time he spent around her, the more the mysteries around her only seemed to deepen. He is glad both for the opportunity to train her in the use of magic, and of the fact that she seems to be so comfortable in his company, as it will give him greater opportunity to look into these mysteries. The fact that he too finds her company agreeable, only means that it will not become too great a trial for him carry out his observations.

He finds himself quite gratified at her reaction to the place he brings her to for her picnic.

Her eyes are bright as she looks out across the view, "This is perfect."

He watches as she looks around for a way to clear the snow and he steps forward quickly, to heat and dry the stone for them, which again earns him the reward of her pleased reactions.

He declines her offer of food and simply sits, continuing to observe her quiet presence as she eats. She makes no effort to engage him in conversation and simply gazes out over the vista before them. He feels the calm in her aura, a peaceful stillness which presents such a dramatic difference from their first day on the mountain it is almost shocking. He wonders at her ability to achieve such a state amidst the chaos that churns in this world and threatens to drag her to its center.

The silence is broken when she tries again to offer him food. He supposes she may feel uncomfortable being the only one eating, though she has shown no indication of this. Or perhaps it is simply in a spirit of generosity that she offers.

In the end he accepts the kind gesture by taking a single apple, before deciding to verbalize some of his previous musings. "You are quite different from most people I have encountered."

She meets his gaze, studying him, clearly curious, "How so?"

He answers, continuing to hold her eyes with his own, "You do not seem to be bothered by silence. Most people I have met seem to become very uncomfortable being around another if no one is talking. They often feel the need to fill the silence with some kind of banal small talk even if neither party is interested in the topic, yet you seem perfectly content to remain silent in my presence."

She looks away then, back to the view, as she considers her words, "I know exactly what you mean. I sometimes feel like I need to keep up some kind of conversation to put those around me at ease because I can just feel them getting edgy in the silence. I love a good conversation or thoughtful discussion, even mature debate or argument can be fun, but I hate small talk and can't see the point of talking when there is nothing particular one needs or wants to say. And sometimes silence is just nice. You seem like someone who can handle silence comfortably which is part of the reason I decided to invite you out here. I came out here looking for some silence and peace, the last thing I want is to have empty conversation just to keep someone comfortable."

He really should know to expect the unexpected from her by now but he continues to be surprised by everything about her. She is unique in so many ways and he cannot seem to reconcile that with the fact that she is also an inhabitant of this world as well as Dalish. Perhaps this new twist in her personality comes from her upbringing, perhaps her clan was quieter or more contemplative than those he'd encountered.

"It seems you are full of surprises. Were there many like you in your clan or were you unusual among them as well?"

She continues to look out at the lake but he sees her countenance take on a more serious cast and it seems as if she is looking out over memories now rather than the view. "No, there were none like me, I've always been a kind of misfit." She speaks without any obvious emotion but he can sense there is a well beneath the words, one that even her aura does not betray in any meaningful way. But it is clear that she does not wish to say anymore on the subject so he remains silent.

A few more minutes pass this way, both lost in their own thoughts until she retrieves the water from her basket and shivers at the chill it brings, no longer held at bay by the now faded warmth of the stone.

He looks over to see her rubbing her arms a bit, "Cold?" he asks. She quickly confirms the obvious and he proceeds to aid her as he had on the mountain. He watches as the warmth returns to her, sees the relief in her face and how it reflects in ripples through her aura. An image of wrapping her in his arms instead, to transfer the heat more directly, rises unbidden into his mind. He is lost in the thought for just a moment before she speaks and he quickly shoves such inappropriate and ridiculous images out of his mind, focusing instead on her questions and moving the lesson forward.

He gets her started on the most basic fire magic possible. She fumbles a bit at first, as she tries to understand how to use the theory he has taught, sensing the Veil, reaching for the Fade and bringing that power across in a conscious and controlled way. He can tell she is strong enough with magic that she could have taken the first steps on instinct alone but if she can understand exactly what she is doing every step of the way, she will be able to more easily learn complicated spells in the future.

The actual lesson turns out to be very short as she has no way yet to maintain the energy necessary for continuous casting, yet in that time she is able to complete every task that is set to her, slowly getting a feel for how to properly channel and control the magic as she draws on it. In fact he finds he has to give very few instructions once she has the basic idea and he watches her performance with satisfaction.

He feels as the pride rises in her at her success and the sharp drop as the fatigue hits. He decides to end the lesson there, allowing her to ask a new series of questions as she sits and recovers a little of her strength. Before long he suggests they return to Haven though, it is clear she is in need of rest.

It is unfortunate they must end the lesson so soon. He will need to teach her how to replenish her energy, probably in the next lesson, or her progress will be significantly slowed by this limitation. It is frustrating though because he knows it is his own fault such limitations exist. How much more swiftly could she learn if the Veil were not there to block her efforts, to complicate her ability to access the full range of her power. He wishes he could simply tear the thing down right here and now and offer her the chance reach her full potential. That is, if it's destruction didn't simply kill her first.

He sighs, and pushes these useless thoughts aside, directing his attention back to his student and her new questions regarding staffs, taking the time to answer in his usual clear and detailed fashion.

She listens intently as usual before responding, "You know, I can't tell if you memorized that out of the 'Encyclopedia of Magic' or if you were actually the one who wrote it."

He can feel her amusement and thinking back on his words he has to admit she probably has a point. He lets out a small laugh at her assessment, "Yes, I suppose I have spent so much time reading books that I now sound like one myself."

"By the way, is there an actual 'Encyclopedia of Magic' or some other book with lots of basic facts about magic?" She asks.

It seems as though her hunger for knowledge is insatiable and he is gratified yet again to see this in her. "There is no encyclopedia as such, but if you are interested I would be able to provide you with a few books you might find useful to get you started."

How can he say no to the first person who has seemed truly open to the knowledge he would wish to share? After all those he's come across, so resistant to anything they do not already accept as truth as to become aggressive at the slightest challenge, he had despaired anyone different might exist in this world and he will not ignore such an opportunity.

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that. I've already gotten a few history books from Josephine, I might as well add a few magic books to the pile." Her reply is sincere and he is already mentally putting together a list of books to start her off with. "Anyway, am I going to need a staff myself? Should I stop practicing with the daggers and focus on using a staff and magic?"

The new questions distract him from his mental book inventory, and he has to pause a moment to shift to the new subject and give it due consideration.

At first he is tempted to say yes. It would allow her to place more time and focus on her magical training, she would learn faster and he is eager to test her potential. But would it truly benefit her to do so? Magic is not the only useful skill, and there are many dangers in this world that magic alone may not be able to prepare her for. In this world where so little magic is accessible it is perhaps especially important to cultivate other abilities. Templars are also of concern, if she has no way to defend herself when magic is completely cut off... No, she needs to develop as many skills as she can reasonably fit into what time is available. The advantages of this could be significant and it would not be right to limit her simply for what could only classified as selfish reasons. She is not some specimen for him to experiment with, she is a person and should be given the opportunity to choose her own direction.

"No, I do not believe it is necessary for you to stop learning another form of defense," he finally replies. "Your situation provides you a unique opportunity, one in which you will be able to develop a set of skills to suit your own wishes and needs. You do not have to contend with the wishes of your clan or those of the Circle, and you will be able to direct your own education. It can be advantageous to extend your abilities beyond those of a traditional mage to include a variety of skills. To this end I think you should continue your current training and I will also help you in learning to use a staff as part of your magical training."

He feels her aura trembling at the idea, as excitement and fear at such a prospect mix, "That sounds both exciting and overwhelming. I certainly would like to have a wide range of skills but I'm not sure there's enough hours in the day for me to learn everything I need."

"I understand your concern, but remember you will not be alone, there are many here who want you to succeed and will support you, and I promise to aid you in whatever way I can as well."

She thanks him and promises to take another lesson the next day before saying goodnight and returning to her cabin.

He waits a few moments before turning towards his own cabin, reflecting on the day.

Despite the initial struggle, she had performed well and seemed able to learn quickly. In truth he probably couldn't have asked for a more perfect student. She listened carefully to his instructions and gave her best effort to following them. She always asks thoughtful questions motivated by pure curiosity and a wish to understand and she does not offer any argument or complaint at any of his instructions.

As he continues to think back on their lesson he realizes she had not shown even the slightest sign of resistance or uncertainty as the lesson progressed. Even her aura had indicated complete openness to the process. The realization is a bit of a shock when it hits him: she has put complete trust in him as her teacher.

Does she simply trust him because he has offered her support in what must be a frightening and overwhelming situation? That must be it, he can see no other explanation, but he hopes she will not trust everyone so easily and leave herself open to manipulation. The idea of someone else seeking to take advantage of her bothers him, and yet isn't that exactly what he hopes to do? He needs her and her ability to control the rifts. He needs to get the Breach sealed properly so he can move forward with his original plans. He is resolved in his course, but as he watches her struggle to master these simple spells, he is hit with a pang of guilt knowing what he does for her is ultimately for his own purposes.

He does what he can to ease his conscience by reminding himself that she will need these skills simply to survive, they will in fact serve more purpose than just to forward his own aims. She could perhaps become a mage of significant skill and save many lives with her ability. In her position, perhaps she could bring a little more stability and peace to the world as it is, and make what is left of life here better than it would otherwise be.

He knows he is all but lying to himself now so he just gives up on that train of thought. He will teach her to the best of his ability and she will use that ability as she sees fit. More than that doesn't matter at this moment.

 

***

 

The next day when she arrives at his door she is wearing obviously new armor, and new blades are shining at her back. It seems slightly strange seeing her like this, her small frame made a little more imposing by the sturdy gear, though it is clear she is unused to such garb. She demonstrates a kind of awkward confidence in her movements, as she gets a feel for how the heavier garments move with her, making her seem to him like someone both stronger and weaker than she actually is.

He finds himself watching her from the corner of his eye as they head out of Haven, slightly fascinated to see how she is adjusting to the new experience of wearing armor. She seems to stand a little taller with it on, but she makes many small adjustments and movements, subtly testing how each piece will affect her movement.

A shift in her aura catches his attention however, and he sees her looking up at the Breach still hanging ominously in the sky. He can tell it makes her uncomfortable and realizes a moment later that she likely can feel the effects of it in the Veil. It still surprises him how sensitive she is, he had become used to how oblivious the people of this world had become to almost everything in it, cut off from not only the Fade and anything related to it, but also from each other. Yet she can see, she can feel, she is awake to the world around her. It is all new to her though, and it must be quite disconcerting at times.

"It is the damage to the Veil that you feel. Such extreme and unnatural damage inevitably sends tremors throughout the Veil," he explains.

"I can't wait till we get it closed then, it makes me feel like ants are under my skin or something."

"Yes, it is quite unpleasant," he agrees, becoming aware of the feeling himself now that she has drawn his attention to it.

They continue silently a while, his mind on the Breach and it's formation, knowing it was certainly caused by his orb. He realizes it is unlikely she has been told anything about his theories on how the Breach formed. If she is to help him towards his aims she will need to know. More than that, she has a right to what knowledge he can safely offer her. She bares the consequences of his mistakes in her flesh, she should have some knowledge of what bound her to this fate. "While closing the Breach is our primary goal," he begins, "I also hope to discover what was used to create it. Any artifact of such power is dangerous, as the destruction of the Conclave proves."

"So, you don't think it was destroyed then?" she asks calmly. He can detect no sense of surprise in her at the news of such an artifact. Perhaps she was told more than he supposed.

"You survived did you not? The artifact which created the blast, is unlike anything seen in this age. I will not believe it destroyed until I see the shattered fragments with my own eyes."

Though her countenance expresses only small changes, the affect his words have on her aura is startling. The change is immediate and dramatic, but then it is gone after only a few moments and he is unable to determine what it is she was feeling in those moments.

"Don't worry, something like that is bound to turn up eventually," her aura again echoes the seeming calm of her words.

He is baffled by the sudden change and also again impressed at her ability to reign in her emotions. He betrays none of these thoughts however as he continues, "Leliana's people have scoured the area and come up with nothing. Whatever it was, the artifact is no longer there."

"It has to be somewhere, we'll find it." She answers firmly, as if there is no question on this matter, and she is sure it will be found. He wishes he could feel as certain.

She looks at him then, "Solas, do you remember the other day? You said that the unicorns were extinct after I mentioned them. I'd only been joking but were there really unicorns once?"

He could tell she was trying to change the subject. He couldn't really blame her, the Breach and what caused it were not particularly pleasant topics, and he smiles at the whimsy of her question, "There were indeed, though they were quite rare. They were creatures of almost pure magic and it was considered a sign of good fortune to meet one." He remembered the creatures, he'd only been fortunate enough to see one only a few times in his life. He did not mention their rarity was in part due to the fact that the Evanuris, prized them so highly they had been hunted as trophies and particularly potent sacrifices. Even so, there were always a few until the Veil was formed. "When Elvhenan fell they were no longer able to survive and thus passed merely into vague legend."

He had not meant for his words to bear so much of the weight of his own regret but the melancholy of his statement clearly affects her as her own aura reflects a similar sadness as well.

After the less than uplifting conversation, it is a kind of relief once they finally start the lesson and can focus on the work. Once he's taught her how to regain energy they are able to continue their lesson for much longer than the previous day. She continues to learn quickly, showing clear talent for magic in general. It is only the second day but he feels confident that it will not be too long before she is able to use magic well enough to begin to defend herself effectively.

Once they finish the lesson, he escorts her back to the training grounds where she will continue her combat training. He feels her steel herself as she says goodbye and goes to meet her trainer. He is tempted to stay and watch part of her training but decides it would be better if he is not a potential distraction. Besides, he has other things he wishes to attend to.

 

***

 

Later that evening he stands in his cabin looking over the stacks of books before him. He had spent the better part of the last few hours debating which books would be best to loan the girl. Too often he'd found himself choosing books on topics he found particularly interesting but were far from being appropriate for a beginner. In the end he'd made several significant stacks of things he wanted to offer her in the future and a much smaller stack of only three books which would serve the purpose of introducing her to some topics which might actually be pertinent to her current needs.

He looks over the various stacks one more time, considering adding just one more to the small pile, before shaking his head and taking the selected tomes out into the night with him.

He feels her familiar, calm presence inside as he approaches the cabin and knocks. At her invitation to enter he opens the door and is immediately struck by how her own essence has filled the space she has claimed for herself. He has to take a moment as it surrounds him, it has been so long since he has felt anything similar. He turns to close the door then looks around for her until his eyes alight on a scene he was not quite expecting. Her back is turned to him as she sits reading in front of the fire, though 'sitting' is perhaps not precisely the best description for her position as her slender legs lay stretched out to either side, bare toes pointed slightly, body bent low over the book, arms gently supporting her chin.

Is she truly so comfortable around him she would adopt such a defenseless and provocative position around him, or was she expecting someone else? He had thought she would have sensed him as he approached.

He clears his throat to catch her attention and her reaction is immediate, surprise and confusion palpable in the air as she finally turns to see him standing there, clearly revealing the answer to his question.

"I hope I am not disturbing you. You had requested a few books on magic so I thought I might deliver them," he holds out the tomes he has brought with him.

"Oh. Um, yeah..." He watches her ears go pink as she scrambles awkwardly up into a standing position, further indicating her shock and embarrassment at the situation. "Yes... uh, you can set them on the table for now."

He sets the books on the indicated table, still watching as she recovers and finally approaches to take a look at the leather bound volumes, in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted your ... reading," he says, looking over to the book still on the floor and repressing a small smirk as she continues to blush.

"No, no, it's fine," she replies, finally looking at him, "I, uh, just wasn't expecting visitors, I thought you were Maryn," she smiles and quickly averts her eyes again.

Part of him would like to smile and ease her clear discomfiture but the true cause of the situation should not be taken lightly and must be dealt with, "I see. Clearly you haven't been practicing then," he keeps his tone even but firm.

"Practicing?" Confusion again as she meets his eyes and he holds hers firmly in return.

"Yes, you should have been able to sense it was me before I entered the room. You seem to be blocking your ability to sense magic again, you need to practice remaining sensitive to it at all times. It is a gift to be as sensitive as you are and it is an advantage that can potentially save your life, it should not be neglected." He says this calmly, but hopes to communicate just how serious he is as he holds her gaze with his own, but as he looks into her eyes and he can see that she does not see him fully this time, and he finds that he needs to see that she can again, that it was not just some illusion or fluke.

Her mouth opens and he sees the excuses begin to form, but they dissolve a moment later, stretching the silence a little longer before she finally responds with a sigh, "Ok, you're right, let me try now."

He holds his breath while she closes her eyes, apparently concentrating on her efforts.

He only has to wait a few short seconds before he can feel the change in her. She opens her eyes and he can breathe again to see himself made real in them again.

"Ok, you're definitely right, I should have known it was you. Does this mean you always know when I'm on my way to see you too?"

"Yes, I am always aware when you approach, you need not worry about catching _me_ by surprise," he releases a tension he hadn't realized he was holding and allows himself a small smirk, before returning his focus to the table. "I think these books will give you a good start with your magical studies and I will be happy to discuss any questions you have regarding what you learn. For now, I will bid you goodnight and let you continue your reading undisturbed."

He then turns and heads back to the door. He finds himself slightly overwhelmed being here now, surrounded by her in this space that is hers, and decides it would be best that he take his leave sooner rather than later.

"Solas," she calls to him as he opens the door to depart. He thinks he shouldn't turn back but the cool air on his face provides some relief so he does, watching her come closer, meeting his eyes and smiling that perfect smile, "Thank you for the books, and I promise to practice more."

"You are quite welcome," he nods in acknowledgement, "Have a pleasant evening."

He turns and heads back to his cabin.

 

***

 

She finds him in the Fade that night, his old friend, comforting in her familiarity. He hasn't spoken to her for several days. He wasn't avoiding her, not really, he just had other matters to attend to.

"The Breach is closed," Wisdom says softly.

"For now," he answers, "It is not yet properly sealed, but we have time now."

"How?"

Her question is simple, if only the answer was too. "A Dalish woman has somehow acquired the Anchor and it gives her power over the rifts and the Breach, she was able to use it to close the Breach."

"And the orb?"

"It is gone. Other than the destruction and the Anchor, no sign remains of it."

"What of this Dalish woman?" She asks, slowly working to pull the details from him. For some reason, he seems hesitant to speak tonight.

"I do not know. She is... different." He answers cryptically and it is clear to her he is holding something back.

"Different how?" she prompts.

"She is completely untrained, I cannot even imagine what she may have been doing at the Conclave. That she somehow survived and acquired the Anchor seems like some kind of cruel joke." His tone is hard, almost angry, but it is not quite an answer to her question, so she waits.

"She is also a mage, yet she was completely unaware of her abilities when she woke. I am having to teach her even the most fundamental skills."

He stops speaking but she can tell there is something more. "I see. She possesses the Anchor, but has no training or skills. It seems quite unusual indeed, but..." she trails off waiting for him to finish.

"She is whole."

The words are soft, to low to be truly heard, but loud enough in the Fade that once they are released she understands. "And?" she breathes almost as softly.

"She is awake."

She lets the silence stretch before her next question, "Does she know?"

He shakes his head, pauses, then turns to face her finally, "I have told her she possesses some particular talents but she does not understand the significance. She can see, but the ability is still limited. I am not sure yet how much more she will be able to sense in time. She does not yet realize how much I can sense of her."

Wisdom thinks on this new information for a few moments, "You should be careful, the people of this time would likely find such ability to be a breach of privacy. It may even limit her. If she bears a strong sense of propriety she may not allow herself to read you clearly, and if she finds out how much you can read of her, she may become mistrustful of you."

He considers quietly for some moments. "I had not thought of that. She is the first inhabitant of this world I have found with such abilities, and clearly they are new to her. I had not considered what such talents might mean in a world like this."

"Do you think the Anchor to be the cause of her abilities?"

"It is not... impossible. But I do not think so. The power of the Anchor seems to be separate from all her other abilities. Perhaps what happened to her at the Conclave triggered the emergence of her power, but I do not think they are directly linked to the Anchor itself." He rubs his palms across his face, confusion and worry coming across plainly to her. He turns away again, lost in more hidden contemplations.

"You said she is Dalish."

The question in Wisdom's statement is obvious, she knows well of his past interactions with others members of the Dalish. "She is Dalish, she bears the vallaslin and makes no denial of her heritage." He pauses, "and yet, she does not _seem_ Dalish. She is open and curious and has not once tried to impress her cultures beliefs upon those around her." He does not say it, but in truth, this fact makes her even more a mystery to him than anything else.

Wisdom asks one final question that night, "What will you do now?"

"I will try to learn more about her, but my priority will be to continue to teach her, and I will protect her. She bears the Anchor, and without it the Breach will destroy the world. She is my only hope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings everyone! As always I hope you are well!
> 
> Next week will be back to the main story again but I will be delayed again I'm afraid. I have to go out of town for work for a few days so the update will probably a couple days late. I'll definitely get it up for you, I just don't think I'll have time to do so at the usual time. 
> 
> Anyway, I love hearing from you guys, thank you for all your comments here or the main story. Feel free to say something anytime, here or on tumblr.
> 
> Have a great week!


	4. Unexpected Reactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to chapters 17-19 in "Reality Dreaming"

The days fall into a routine as he slowly begins to help her build on the skills of the first few days. Each day drives home to him how unfamiliar she is with magic as she struggles to hold onto control over each new basic technique. Even so, each day also brings a notable degree of progress and accomplishment; a technique she struggles with one day becomes manageable the next and almost natural the one after that. Her steady progress allows him to continue challenging her with new things. 

Of course, during that time there are still plenty of mishaps as a result of her lack of control and he is glad they have chosen to continue all their lessons out of doors and away from others. As it is, she has a tendency to silently berate herself for many of her mistakes; small flares of frustration and disappointment directed inward. She seems aware of the folly of such thoughts however, and is generally able to quash them quickly. He suspects that if others were to be put at risk as a result of her mistakes, it might be a somewhat different matter.

It quickly becomes clear to him that destruction is not a natural impulse for her, she seems more drawn towards protection and creation. Perhaps this is, in part, an explanation for her previous lack of training. Perhaps if she had remained wherever she is from, she could have continued such a life rather than being driven against her nature now, as she learns the now necessary skills of survival on the path the events of the Conclave forced her into.

He worries about this sometimes, worries that being so compelled against her own nature, she might be twisted or broken as would happen to a spirit, and fears what might become of her if that were to happen. So far, she does not seem adversely affected, but she has not truly been tested yet, and he is unsure what will happen when that day comes, as it inevitably will.

Despite these concerns, he cannot help but be generally pleased by her performance and continued determination. From what he has heard, it is something she demonstrates in other contexts as well. She makes no attempts to hide away or remain idle, instead her focus remains on preparing herself for a future she knows will be full of trials.

He also finds himself paying closer attention to her own perceptions of the world around her, specifically if she is maintaining her ability to sense magic. After a couple days, he realizes he has been meeting her eyes with penetrating looks more often than is likely natural, just so he can catch that telltale glint of something more that means she still sees the whole him. He does his best to keep from acting on this impulse very often, as it seems to make her uncomfortable. Every time it agitates her emotions into a small but unreadable storm and does nothing to aid her in maintaining focus on the work at hand.

After a few days though, he is satisfied that she is maintaining the ability well enough that he can relax his search for signs of its manifestation. He sometimes wonders though exactly how much she is able to sense from him, but other than his presence, she shows no sign that she is conscious of anything more significant in his aura. This is both a relief and a concern for him; it would be dangerous if she became able to sense as much from him as he can of her. And yet, a part of him longs to be seen this way, the way his people had been able to read each other.

After having spoken to Wisdom he has taken her warning that his awareness of so many details of the girl's emotions might not be exactly appreciated and tries to ignore or block what he can. However it is proving more difficult than he'd first expected. In a world that is essentially pitch dark to him in this regard, she shines like a beacon. There is nothing else to obscure or distract from it. It is essentially as if she is shouting in an empty room and the only way he can avoid hearing it is to leave that room, as the equivalent to 'covering one's ears' has limited effect in this case. It doesn't help that it is a big room. With nothing to interfere but the ever-present buzz of the Breach in the sky he is able to maintain an awareness of her even from some distance. The Anchor only exacerbates this.

Even so, he does his best to respect her privacy as much as is possible. Most of their time together is in lessons, and he finds it is not too difficult to remain focused on the work. Since she too is able to maintain a strong focus during lessons, it is a manageable proposition; the only time there ever is any real struggle is outside of lessons, but as she has a tendency to ask many questions and turn nearly everything into a lesson such situations are few.

 

~~~

 

 

It has been a couple weeks and he is unsurprised to feel her approach this afternoon, the timing varies very little from day to day. Even if her schedule were not so regular, sensing her approach from a distance gives him time to finish any tasks he is in the middle of before she arrives. As she draws near, he waits and focuses carefully in order to time his words to just before she knocks, enjoying the little flare of amused exasperation she gives off every time he does this. He has no doubt that she is aware of the game and as she always approaches with a hint of anticipation, wondering how she will be greeted each time.

Once she enters and closes the door behind her, he turns to where she stands in the doorway and is rewarded with her customary smile that he has grown pleasantly used to seeing each day.

"Good afternoon, I see you have received your new staff," he gestures slightly to the staff she now carries at her back, though it is clear she is not yet comfortable carrying the weapon.

"Yes, I got it this morning." She smiles before moving on quickly, "It's just on time actually, I have to leave for the Hinterlands tomorrow morning. I hope you will join us, I'd like to continue our lessons on the way if possible."

She seems slightly nervous that he may decline her request, though of course he would have no intention of doing so. He had been wondering when the time would finally come for her to go out into the field and he is glad she wishes his presence. "Of course, I would be happy to accompany you, I did promise to assist you however I could after all, and there is still much for you to learn. However I believe it will be beneficial for you to now have the opportunity to put your new skills to some practical use. There is only so much you can learn in a controlled environment without distractions or dangers, you will now need to learn to control your abilities in a real fight."

At the mention of fighting he feels a shock of fear shoot through her, and spread quickly throughout her aura, overpowering anything else. He can even see it manifest in her eyes, though her expression has barely changed in the short moment. A feeling of concern unexpectedly surges through him in response to her obvious distress and he is already moving towards her before he can regain control and stop himself from the sudden urge to reach out for her and ... he does not know what. No, he should keep his distance, but he still wishes to comfort her.

"Lethallan," he says, the word flowing across his tongue in a familiar way though it has been a very long time since he has last spoken it.

Her reaction to even that single word is immediate and the fear becomes dimmed by something else as her eyes find his.

"Do not fear the challenges ahead," he begins trying to find words that might ease her fears. "You have many here who want to support you and help you, but do not underestimate your own strength. You have already accomplished much in a short time. You were nearly overcome by fear many times upon the mountain and yet you never gave in. Since waking you have given everything to preparing yourself for the challenges you knew were ahead and you have learned more than you realize, and it is likely you will not realize it until you have been tested. In any case, it is clear that your greatest asset is your indomitable spirit, it is what will allow you to keep walking this path no matter the obstacles you encounter. Hold onto that and I am sure you can reach any destination you seek."

Though at first he had meant only to offer comfort and reassurance, as he speaks he finds himself unable to hold back his admiration for her as well.

He can tell that though the fear has abated, she is not exactly calm. He gets a sense of surprise and confusion, and something else less distinct.

"Indomitable spirit?" she asks with a kind of hesitant curiosity.

He isn't sure what makes him say it. It is intended as a joke; something to help her relax, maybe laugh, "Presumably," he says and gives her a kind of half smile, "After recent events it is hard to conceive of it being dominated. And yet I imagine such a sight would be... fascinating."

She doesn't laugh. The sense of shock and confusion simply increases. But behind that is...the last thing he expected to feel from her. A feeling full of warmth and a honey sweetness paired with an electric sharpness. It lasts only a moment before it is smothered, but it is undeniable.

He knows it is wrong. It is utterly inappropriate. He should _not_ be pleased by this.

...but he is.

She finally collects herself enough to respond with a slightly choked "Mm-hmm" as she looks away. And he cannot help the slightly smug feeling at her reaction, nor the smile that accompanies it as she continues to fight her feelings, skin flushing just slightly.

He says nothing about it however, better to move on, "Shall we go and start today's lesson?"

"Yes, let's go," She answers quickly in her still flustered state, before opening the door and quickly heading out, without waiting for him.

His smile broadens just a bit as he grabs his own staff and shuts the door. However, by the time he's caught up with her, he's schooled his expression and emotions back into something more appropriate.

She has managed to recollect herself as well, but he has come to expect no less from her at this point, and she is soon asking more questions, the dynamic between them returning to something more familiar. His is actually grateful for her decision to simply move on from the moment. Looking back on it, it was a foolish reaction on his part and entirely inappropriate, whatever the circumstances. He must maintain an appropriate distance in both speech and action. Anything less is unacceptable.

Soon, they are both able to relax into the conversation, the familiar flow of questions and answers. He is intrigued by her question suggesting the use of other weapons in a similar function as a staff, a technique that was unneeded in his time, and one that he has not seen used in this one. He begins to imagine how such tools might be utilized with what she is learning now, and it is a very interesting idea, though perhaps not advisable just yet, when her skills are still only rudimentary. But perhaps later, when she has more skill and the Inquisition has greater resources to create weapons worthy for such a purpose.

He tells her all this, which she takes in with her usual thoughtful calm, nodding, "Well, I guess I still have a ways to go then, let's get started."

The afternoon passes quickly, both of them focused on the task at hand. There is no time for distractions, she will need to be prepared to use these skills very soon and there is no way to know how much time there will be to learn while they travel.

Her progress is steady as usual though, and eventually she begins to handle the staff with increasing skill as she gets a feel for it in her hands, though it will take time to gain true finesse. The physical aspect is in fact the greatest challenge, not surprising since all of their previous practice had been almost entirely stationary, which is probably something he should have considered sooner.

Eventually he feels she is has reached an acceptable level for the time being, "I believe you are sufficiently prepared for the journey, we will finish here for the day."

He watches her as she looks at him, leaning on her staff and taking in his words. She walks a few paces from where she had been standing, then she is suddenly collapsing and falling back onto the snow behind her.

He stands a moment in shock at this behavior before a spike of panic hits him. He reaches out before moving to see if he can determine what is wrong but he gets no sense of distress or pain coming from her, rather a kind of peace. He grabs the coat she'd left near him and walks over quickly to be sure she is okay. When he reaches her he sees she has her eyes closed, taking deep breaths as she lies there, seemingly fine. "Are you alright?" he finally asks, still unsure.

"I'm fine, just worn out." She answers tiredly, still refusing to open her eyes.

He frowns, he should have paid better attention to her condition, he must do better in the future. "It is probably not wise for you to remain in the snow that way, we should go back so you may recover in the warmth."

She scrunches her face up at him, "Just another minute, okay," she pleads.

Her tone only sharpens the pang of guilt in him, " _Ir abelas, lethallan_. I wouldn't have pushed you so hard today but I wanted you to feel prepared for the challenges ahead when we set out tomorrow. You have done very well in such a short time and you should feel proud of your progress."

She finally opens her eyes and there is nothing disappointed or angry in them. He does not know why he expected there to be, her aura has remained calm the entire time. The look she does meet him with is in fact soft, and she meets his eyes with a smile, " _'Ma serannas, lethallin_. I appreciate your help more than you know. I can't imagine having a better teacher."

Hearing the elvish words roll smoothly off her tongue sends a shiver of something else through him, some cross between nostalgia and longing. He reaches out to her and she takes his arm without hesitation, still smiling as he pulls her up to her feet.

He must have pulled with a little too much force however, because she loses her balance and stumbles forward to catch herself against him. He barely realizes what is happening before his hands are up, gripping her shoulders to stabilize her. It is a shock suddenly having her so close, hands pressed against him, the scent of her hair in his nostrils.

A moment later she takes a step back and meets his eyes again, "Sorry," she says softly, pausing only a moment longer before she removes her hands, and he follows suit just after.

He can feel the mix of emotions coming off her and is again grateful she is not able to read him quite so well, for his emotions are not any less mixed.

He averts his eyes quickly to prevent her getting any sense of this from him, bending down to reach for her staff and coat where they lay in the snow. "Think nothing of it," he says handing them back to her with a smile. "Come, we should eat, and then you must prepare for the journey tomorrow and get plenty of rest.

They walk back to Haven in comfortable silence, though his own thoughts are not quite as settled as he would like them.

When they reach the town he knows he should simply let her return to her cabin where she can rest properly and prepare, but he isn't ready to let her walk away just yet. "Would you care to join me for dinner in the tavern or would you prefer to return to your own cabin?" he asks, hoping it does not sound like an unusual question, they have had dinner together a few times previously after all.

She stops, considering the choice before answering, "Let's go to the tavern, we aren't going to get another chance for a while after all."

He cannot help the small relief he feels at her answer. He knows it a selfish feeling, but she seems just as happy to remain in his company, as he is to be in hers.

 

~~~

 

He wakes up early the next morning to prepare his breakfast and finish his final preparation before they depart. As he does this he reflects on the last few weeks. In reality, not all that much has happened and yet everything seems different somehow.

Of course, all of his plans had changed in a flash and he was on the edge of giving up hope until she had restored it. But she has become so much more since then. He has no idea why she is different, he doubts it is due to the Anchor, but he can find nothing else that offers any explanation.

Whatever the reason, he finds himself glad for her uniqueness. If he must be among these people and work with them to achieve what is necessary, then he is glad that there is one among them whose company he can truly abide, even enjoy. That this person also holds the key to success, is only good fortune, something he thought never to find again.

He thinks back over the previous day and cannot help the small smile that rises to his lips. It is wrong for him to enjoy the memory of those small, yet significant flashes through her aura, the feeling of her proximity to him when she stumbled. He knows he must do what he can to avoid encouraging such in happening again. But it is proving difficult to block the memories out.

It had been especially difficult at dinner the night before. He'd done his best to focus entirely on the conversation after the Commander had joined them, but at odd moments he discovered himself to be distracted by a gesture, a smile, or just a shift in her aura. If she happened to turn to look at him directly, he saw nothing else.

It is foolish, all of it. He needs to get himself together. He gives a shake of his head before splashing cold water across his face. No, he has too many other concerns, and now that they are heading out into the field he will need to keep his focus.

He is nearly ready when there is a knock at his door. He is not sure who it might be, perhaps it is Cassandra gathering everyone.

He opens the door to reveal the child of the stone standing outside of it, grinning up at him.

"Hey there Chuckles. You ready to head out yet?"

He does his best not to simply frown at the shorter man, "I was just making my final preparations."

"Great, I'll just wait here while you do that," the man responds cheerfully.

This time he does frown, "I assure you that is not necessary..."

"I just thought we might go and pick up Midnight on our way," the dwarf interrupts before he can protest further. "You know the kid is terrified of going out there, right? I thought it might be nice if we offer a little moral support to help her get started."

He had been aware of it. It was that fear which led to his attempts at easing them that ended up going in an unexpected direction, but the following reactions had done a good job of distracting both of them from what started it all. What he had not known was that she might confess her fear to anyone else. In fact, she had not even so much said anything to him, it was his ability to read her that that gave it away. The dwarf had no such ability so he must assume she had been more direct with him.

He really shouldn't be so surprised, it is clear she and the dwarf get along very well, it was obvious from every dinner they shared. He had simply not considered what that meant. Still, the dwarf has a point, if she was scared before it is likely that emotion would be tormenting her in anticipation of their imminent departure.

"I see," he finally responds, "Give me a few moments."

He turns back to the interior of his cabin to collect all of his supplies and his staff before joining the other man and heading further up the hill to her cabin.

As they approach he can sense her presence inside and now he can also detect the apprehension the dwarf had mentioned; it is a good idea they came here.

As they draw closer the sensation changes, likely because she senses his approach. By the time she opens the door after Varric's knock, she seems a great deal calmer, "Good morning, this is a surprise," she smiles out at them.

His own lips turn up slightly in response, "Good morning, I hope we are not disturbing your preparations."

"No, I was actually just about to leave."

"Perfect timing then," the dwarf says in a cheerful voice, "We thought you might enjoy a little company out to the stables."

"Really?" she answers with feigned surprise, "I thought you were just here to make sure I didn't run off."

The shorter man offers a slightly embarrassed shrug in response to that, "Uh, well, maybe that had a little to do with it."

 

A few minutes later she has collected her things, shut the door of her cabin and joined them. It is clear that their company has in fact relaxed her significantly and he had to give the dwarf some credit for his forethought.

"Did you rest well?" he asks as they begin walking down the hill, trying to start a friendly conversation.

"Ok, I guess. I had some strange dreams, probably brought on by nerves." She shrugs nonchalantly but he can feel some of the earlier apprehension returning.

Though they had spoken a few times of the Fade, her own experience in dreams had never come up. It was yet another oversight on his part. With the manifestation of her magic, it was more than likely that it would have affected her experiences while dreaming.

"Do your dreams often trouble you? Have they changed since you discovered your magic?"

He watches as she thinks for a moment before answering, "No, they don't generally bother me, I usually quite like dreaming. I suppose they have changed though, I'm more aware and in control than I was before. Not last night though, probably because I was so tired when I went to sleep, or maybe it was because of my nerves, but even then, I remember a lot more than I used to."

Her answer is forthright, but he also gets a sense of her pulling back, actually shielding her thoughts and emotions. He wonders if she is even aware that she is doing it, but it is a clear sign that there is something here she doesn't want to discuss openly. He may not be able to prevent himself from knowing her emotions, but he certainly has no right to pry where she has made clear boundaries. Even so, he wants to help her if she needs it. And she has always been such a willing and open student; it would be a pleasure to have someone who he could share more of his knowledge of the Fade with.

"If you like I can teach you some useful techniques that may help you in such situations. Spending time in the Fade can be very rewarding and I would be happy to help you improve the quality of your experiences there." He smiles, trying to just be friendly but suspects he is not quite managing to hide the eagerness at the idea of helping her in this area.

She smiles back however, "Actually, I would really like that. I mean, I know dreaming occurs in the Fade but really I don't know much beyond that. I've heard that demons can be a concern for mages but really I don't know any details. I've always liked dreaming though, I even appreciate nightmares. I think dreams can offer a lot of insight even if it's just your own mind talking to you."

"Excellent. I'm sure we will have ample time on the road for us to further discuss dreaming and the Fade in more detail."

He can't deny that he is excited to discuss more of the Fade with a willing student, but he must also remember to tread carefully. She has already shown some reservations in discussing the details of her dreams and he does not wish to show anything of his own. He is not sure how her perceptions of him would be affected by the Fade and he cannot risk revealing too much. For the time being at least, any lessons regarding dreams ought to be theoretical only.

He is so lost in his own thoughts that he completely misses the conversation between her and Varric.

 

~~~

 

The journey starts smoothly, everything is well prepared and they keep a steady pace throughout the morning.

Around midday, they find their first rift, the Anchor apparently giving the Herald greater sensitivity towards them.

Once they find the rift he feels her apprehension rising again, it is her first real battle since closing the Breach and it makes sense she would be nervous. She is in much more control now however, and there is nowhere near the level of panic she experienced on that day.

For this first rift, she stays with her weapons trainer Bryn, a woman he has had no opportunity to speak with before now, but who seems very capable from what he has heard of her. This perception proves correct when he sees the Herald fighting for the first time. In the short weeks since closing the Breach, her performance with daggers has improved significantly.

He has little time to watch her abilities closely however, as he and the dwarf cover them from a distance and he tries to maintain the barriers around those fighting.

When a stray wraith gets too close he is distracted from his defensive duties to deal with it. That's when he feels the shock of surprise and pain as she's hit from behind. He swiftly takes out the wraith he is fighting and turns to offer his aid, but a moment later all the demons remaining are taken out by the disruption of the rift. He sees her stand, hand with the mark already raised high to close the rift.

As it shuts, he realizes his heart is pounding. He had thought the damage had been greater, but clearly it was mostly just a shock and she is unharmed. He is unused to her having the ability to defend herself, and he has forgotten that the others will surely do their part to protect her. He will have to learn to trust all of their abilities now, he supposes, as well as her own growing skills.

After discussing tactics with Bryn as part of her in-the-field training, they walk back to where they left the horses.

He moves forward to her side, "I apologize for not being quicker with the barrier, I had hoped your first battle would be free of any injury."

She looks at him and smiles, "Don't worry about it, it was just a wraith. It was probably a good reminder to me to look out more carefully for the bastards. Anyway, I'm going to get hit sometimes anyway, fingers crossed they can all be as minor."

"I suppose you are right," he answers. He still feels he should do better but seeing her this calm after the fight is a relief.

Even so, he is glad to have her closer for the next fight and makes sure she is constantly under the protection of a barrier as he guides her forward with instructions on how and where to attack.

After it is over, everyone participates in offering suggestions on how she can continue improving, teaching her important points to remember when in a real fight, and how to be mindful of everything that is around her. She listens carefully, asking questions as usual and absorbing all the information offered to her.

It is interesting to see her among the group. Most of his time with her has been spent alone, aside from a few meals with Varric. Seeing her interacting so freely with all of them is fascinating. To him they are little more than different faces, but to her they are distinct individuals. She interacts with each in a subtly different manner and her aura shifts slightly throughout the interactions.

He knows that she sees him in a way she cannot see the others, yet it does not lessen the regard in which she sees them, they are as real to her as he is. He supposes it is just what she is used to. She likely has never sensed such things before she had gained her magic, and for her, he is the anomaly.

 

Sometime later that afternoon, she approaches him, drawing her horse even with his, "Solas, when will you teach me to make a barrier? It seems like a really useful thing to know and having two mages who can help protect our group is better than one right?"

He looks at her, wondering what has prompted this sudden request, but perhaps it is simply as she says, it is a practical skill to have and having two mages able to use it would be quite advantageous. It would make him feel better as well, knowing she would have such means of protecting herself.

"Indeed it is a very useful technique, but it is quite different from the types of spells you have learned so far, which are generally offensive skills to be directed at the enemy. Creating barriers is a different sort of magic. I had thought to wait a while longer until you became more comfortable performing in battle but perhaps I am being overly cautious. If you like we can begin at the next opportunity we can find for a lesson."

She smiles brightly for him at his promise, "Thanks. I'm sure if you say it's challenging it is, but all the more reason to start soon right?"

 

As promised, he begins teaching her the barrier spell that evening after they eat.

She does struggle quite a bit as she makes her first attempts but eventually she is able to produce a weak barrier every time. When she fails to improve beyond a certain point he can feel the usual frustration begin to rise up and she becomes increasingly tense and aggravated with herself, causing him to finally declare the lesson finished. She accepts this without argument. It is not unusual for her to get stalled while learning a spell, but in all likelihood she will make great progress the next time.

They return to the circle of the fire at the center of their camp and the party begins to make their preparations to retire. He moves to begin setting the necessary wards around the camp before taking the first watch.

She offers a quiet goodnight to everyone before entering her tent for the night. The others similarly retreat to their own tents for the night and he takes up his post near the fire, senses still trained on her tent.

It is not long before he feels her aura go quiet, lost now in sleep.

He wonders what she dreams of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings dear readers! 
> 
> Sorry for the slight delay this week, it took me a little longer than expected to get the chapter ready. 
> 
> I hope everyone is well this week! Thank you all for reading!


	5. Rare and Marvelous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is swept away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Ch19-20 of "Reality Dreaming"

The next couple of days prove to be much more eventful as they discover many rifts along their path. After a number of battles he realizes that not only are Lyara's skills improving, but everyone in their party is beginning to work together more fluidly. They are able to take care of each rift with increasing efficiency as they learn to work together. Once they find their rhythm these bouts hardly would have slowed them down if it weren't for the continued lessons after each to help the Herald build on her experience.

He cannot help but admire her progress. The magic flows out of her with increasing ease, and her movements become smoother and faster as they become more natural to her. He even begins to see her own personality and style showing through as she begins to make each technique her own, growing more and more comfortable in battle. She has clearly exceeded everyone's expectations, no less his own.

Of course, he had never even expected her to rise from the cold floor of that cell where she had been shackled after the Conclave. He had left her there to die. He had left her alone. He had left her to awaken faced with hatred and accusation, filled with fear and confusion at what had happened to her. He should have been there. He should have helped her when she woke. Perhaps if he had, she wouldn't have been so afraid on that mountain.

Of course, such thoughts were useless now. Though he and her other companions have all aided in her survival, much of what she has become, what she is able to do, can only be credited to her own tenacity. He knows the fear is still there, every time they go into battle he can feel it, but she has the tools to face it much better now and she does not hesitate to do so.

 

They are continuing along their path, these thoughts slowly filtering through his mind, when he feels her approach from behind. He turns to nod in greeting as she pulls her horse even with his.

"Solas," she starts carefully, as if considering her phrasing, " I was wondering if you could tell me more about dreaming and the Fade now. I'm specifically interested in how one protects themself against demons and might safely interact with spirits."

He holds back the smile that tries to show itself, "I will gladly share my knowledge on the subject with you."

In truth, this is what has exceeded his expectations the most. Never had he thought to find someone as open to learning what knowledge he possesses as she is, especially regarding subjects such as the Fade and spirits. He had assumed much just from seeing the marks across her face, and she had so far destroyed each of those assumptions.

He begins to speak of dreaming, the Fade, and the spirits within. As usual, she asks many thoughtful questions, each of which he answers in turn. When he gets to the topic of possession he looks at her, meeting her eyes as she continues to listen with full attention. "I have seen how you have faced the challenges laid before you since you emerged from the Fade, and though you were lacking in skill and experienced great fear, you never failed to step forward, do what was necessary and face each challenge yourself rather than let others handle everything. I believe you are more than a match for any demon who might tempt you."

He cannot help but admire these facts about her, but he does his best to repress any outward signs of it. Better to remain impassive, to keep a distance. Better for them both. His manner fortunately doesn't seem to bother her as she just moves on to asking about meeting spirits.

"I assume you can't just walk up to one and introduce yourself and start a conversation," she says.

He can't hold back the laugh this time, "Actually that is essentially how you do start getting to know them, unless of course they introduce themselves first," he says, still smiling. "The difficulty is finding these more benevolent spirits. There are not nearly as many as there are what most consider demons and they do not often seek out those from this world. However if you possess the qualities these spirits embody you are more likely to draw them to you. There are other denizens of the Fade, such as wisps, which are much less predictable however, there is no way to know what might attract one, as they are much less defined themselves but they are also harmless."

He wonders what spirits might be most easily drawn to her; perhaps a spirit of curiosity, since she asks so many questions. He could easily imagine spirits of hope, peace, or compassion seeking her company too. He hopes she would no longer be of much interest to spirits of fear. There are so few of these beautiful, peaceful spirits now though, and they tend to keep to themselves, hiding in secluded corners of the Fade where most mages of this world do not tread.

He wonders if they learned to hide because of the hate born of misunderstanding of modern mages, or whether it is the scarcity of such spirits which has led to so many encounters with their more frightening and dangerous counterparts that created such fear and hate to begin with. Most likely it is some of both, resulting in the vicious cycle that must have led to the current situation.

Yet here is someone before him that seems miraculously untouched by these circumstances and seems actively interested in reaching out to what spirits might, by chance, approach. He is determined to do what he can to assist her in this.

"Wow, I had no idea it could be that easy. After hearing some of your experiences with spirits in the Fade I can only hope to be as fortunate. I imagine they could be very unique friends."

She smiles and he can feel her eagerness at the prospect and it makes something inside himself tighten and he almost smiles back, but is stopped as Cassandra interjects with stern cautions.

Listening to the woman's words, born of this culture of fear, he feels anger growing inside and readies an argument in response. However, before he can finish formulating his response, his lethallan is speaking again. She offers a much greater degree of diplomacy than he had in mind, but considering the circumstances, it is likely a much more appropriate response. In fact, he finds himself to be quite impressed with how well she handles the situation.

He even has to give some credit to Varric for his comment, preventing Cassandra from arguing further. Though the dwarf promptly loses this good will when he gives a warning of his own. Yet, again, she deals with the dwarf with equal grace as she had Cassandra before his own anger can begin to rise again.

Before he even realizes it, she is turning back to him again, "So, what else can you tell me about friendly spirits?"

He looks at her then, amazed. Though two of her companions have only just warned her off of the subject, and likely her entire upbringing had taught her to beware the dangers of spirits, here she is asking him about them again without even missing a beat. He cannot help but wonder at what it is about this woman, or her experiences, that has made her so open to ideas the rest of the world would reject outright.

"I am surprised at your willingness to gain such understanding of spirits and your apparent openness to the idea that some could be friends. I thought all Dalish believed spirits to be dangerous," he asked, truly curious.

"You mean just like _all_ humans believe that _all_ elves are nothing more than savages?"

He can feel no anger from her, but her statement still has an edge to it.

"Ah, I take your point. I did not mean to cause offense," he turns away, unsure what else to say. He was thoughtless in his choice of words perhaps, but his views on the Dalish are not without some justification, "It is just that I have crossed paths with the Dalish on many occasions. Those encounters did not go well. I found very little acceptance of the knowledge I tried to share and in the end was often driven away out of superstition."

He feels a wave of what can only be sympathy from her.

" _Ir abelas, ha'hren_. I'm sorry you had such unfortunate experiences. I suppose the Dalish can be quite, shall we say, _set_ in their ways. I took no offense at your statement, I merely wanted to point out the fallacy within it. I do hope to prove to you that I am not like 'most Dalish'."

He looks at her again then. It feels as though she truly does understand and that she holds no blame. And the words she says are true. It is perhaps wrong of him to hold such a blanket judgment upon all Dalish simply for being Dalish. He should try to see the individuals perhaps. For now, he sees her. She is different. She is amazing. 

He smiles, "You have already proven that _da'len_."

 

***

 

That night they continue their usual training. For some reason she is not making any real progress in creating the barriers. He continues to guide her patiently as she attempts to strengthen the barrier but she seems to become increasingly frustrated with each new attempt. He can feel the struggle within her as she tries to focus her energy but she only becomes more and more distracted until he finally has to stop the lesson after only twenty minutes.

"That is enough for tonight," he says, "You are clearly not going to make any progress in this state."

He feels a small flare of frustration from her, almost as if she wishes to attack something, before she reigns in the emotion to something that mostly just simmers beneath the surface. He knows she is eager to master this spell, but it is likely that eagerness that has created too heavy an expectation upon herself. Until she can let go of that expectation she is likely to struggle. He needs to find a way to bring her out of herself and help her regain her focus. He has an idea, something he learned a long time ago when he was also not nearly as in control of his emotions and impulses. It will also likely be a challenge for her, but it is one she will feel little pressure to master quickly, making it ideal to refocus her energy.

"You must maintain your focus to cast properly and to do that you need to be calm. Perhaps tomorrow you will be ready to try again. For now, I have something else to teach you that might help you re-center yourself."

She looks at him with skepticism, "What would that be?"

"It is a sequence of movements involving the staff, a technique designed to connect your body, mind, and magic. As you move through the sequence you should feel your own magic flowing within you while simultaneously being aware of the Veil and your connection to the Fade. You and your magic become one fluid entity, and a part of The Fade, even as you are separate."

"So, its a kind of moving meditation technique?" she asks.

He can tell he has her intrigued now, "Of a sort, yes. I shall demonstrate first. Remember not to watch with only your eyes, reach out and feel how the magic moves as well."

He moves towards the center of the clearing they have been using and pauses a moment, centering himself, collecting his magic and becoming more conscious of his connection with the Fade before raising his staff and initiating the sequence that is nearly as familiar to him as breathing now. In fact it has been quite some time since he'd last performed any such technique. He'd tried to do so a few times not long after he first awakened in this world, hoping to relieve his distress at what he'd found, but his despair had been too much for him to be able to focus his then very limited abilities.

Now though, the peace and focus this technique is meant to engender returns and he lets himself fall into it gladly. Despite this, he is still familiar enough with this technique that he is able to divert some of his attention towards her, reading her reactions to what he is showing her.

He is not disappointed to find that she is nearly enthralled in watching him. The tumult of frustration has quieted to give way to wonder and even excitement. The sensation brings him nearly as much satisfaction as the performance does.

He could continue for quite some time, but this is for her right now and he is keen to indulge her own eagerness to get started. The sense he has of her emotions are punctuated by her next words, "I'm absolutely speechless! That was unbelievable! It was so beautiful! It will probably take me forever to do that half as well as you but I'd certainly like to try. Where did you learn that?"

He cannot help the small laugh that comes out at her excitement, "I don't think all those words constitute speechlessness _da'len_."

"I guess you're right, sorry," she answers with a smile.

He sees as a lovely flush rises to her ears as she looks away bashfully, "There is no need to apologize," he says, still smiling, wanting to reach out and direct her gaze back towards him, but resisting the temptation. "I have seen many similar techniques in my travels but this is one of my favorites. I believe it is likely very old, for I have only witnessed it in the Fade. It is difficult to master but I believe it is well worth the effort." He lies about it's origin, though not the age.

She does look back at him finally, "Well, let's get started then."

They do just that and continue working for another half an hour as he carefully demonstrates each movement for her to emulate. It takes time but they get through the whole sequence of movements. She actually learns rather quickly and is able to copy even small details of positions and movements after watching him only a few times. They are able to run through the sequence slowly a few times so she can get a feel of how the moves connect and flow into each other. She has come a long way in a few days in terms of her comfort with the staff. She had been stiff and very awkward the first time, but it is already becoming natural to her. She moves smoothly and with grace now. He's seen it in battle but it is much more apparent in this setting.

She still has some work to do to get the sequence perfect and up to speed, and there is still the flow of magic to incorporate, but she is already better than he'd expected and it has had the desired effect of calming and refocusing her mind.

He is reminded of the time however when Varric appears to call them back to camp. He will need to set the wards before retiring and leaving her to her watch. They converse as they return to the camp. He apologizes to Cassandra before she retires, and decides it will be best if he sets the wards as they make camp each day, rather than waiting. He says as much to Lavellan once he is finished.

"Will you teach me how to set wards sometime?" she asks, smiling up at him.

He smiles with slight surprise at the sudden request, and wonders, not for the first time, nor probably the last if she will ever stop surprising him this way. "Is there anything you are not going to ask me to teach you? It seems we barely start one lesson before you are already asking to learn five more things. I admire your eagerness _da'len_ but it will take time for you to learn so much."

"Oh, I know that. It's just that there is so much I want to learn and I figure if I let you know each time there is something I'm interested in it might help you develop an appropriate lesson plan."

He feels warmth inside himself at her words, he relishes her hunger for knowledge and the fact that she seems equally eager that he be the one to teach her. "I see. In that case I shall teach you wards sometime after you have mastered enough magic that will ensure your safety on the battlefield." She smiles in acceptance of his terms and a part of him just wishes to linger near her. "I suppose I shall retire now as well," he says instead and begins to turn away.

"Actually, if it's ok I wanted to ask you about one more thing before you go," she says quickly and he catches the air of uncertainty in her as she speaks. "It's about spirits, and since the subject seems to make the others uncomfortable I thought it might be better not to discuss it while they're around."

He turns fully to face her again, deeply interested in what she might have to say, "Ah, yes, I believe that is a wise consideration. I am certain Cassandra would not appreciate it if you continue to bring up the subject."

"Yeah, she's trying to trust me but I don't think the conversation today did me any favors, or you for that matter" he hears her sigh and she moves to sit down by the fire.

He goes to join her but is careful to keep some distance between them. "So, what is it you would ask about spirits, _lethallan_?"

He can feel the stir of emotions that seems to accompany his use of that word, but she continues as if nothing has changed.

"So, you mentioned before that the rifts pull spirits to our plane against their will and their being forced across corrupts them and this is why they all appear as demons and attack us. Does that mean that in the Fade they are generally not so aggressive?"

"That is correct. If a spirit sees an opening it may try to manipulate you in a way to possess you, if that is its wish, but many spirits are content to remain in the Fade and those that actively seek to use or harm dreaming mages are the minority. When they are forced into our world by the rifts it is essentially a shock and this world proves too overwhelming for them, causing them to lash out and attack, all control and personality they possessed is left behind in the Fade," he explains and she takes in his words with her usual focused calm. Several moments follow before she continues.

"You also told me today that spirits naturally reflect this world and the reason there are so many so-called 'demons' is because of the abundance of such negative emotions and states of being in this world. If there were more compassion and wisdom here, so it would be reflected there. So, would it follow that many of the beings people call demons have the potential to become something else? Pride could become Wisdom, Desire become Love?"

"Yes, that is essentially true," he answers. Although it is actually quite a rare occurrence for such to happen, it is possible. He watches her closely, curious where she is going with this line of thought. He is surprised when he feels the cast of melancholy descend upon her and begins to become concerned.

"Hmmm, It's sad then," she says a moment later, her eyes turning towards the fire and becoming lost in it as it dances before her. Yet for all the flames' warmth and brightness he feels her aura darken.

He remains silent though, waiting for her to explain whatever it is that has brought such sadness, and even a hint of fear, upon her.

She keeps her eyes fixed on the fire as she begins to speak again, "You know, I've never killed anyone before.... I don't want to kill anyone, but I know I'm going to have to do so soon. I'm probably going to have to kill a lot of people as time goes on and I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with that. I believe in the potential within people. A lot of people do bad things for a lot of different reasons, some bad and some good. But even if the reason is bad, people have the potential to change, they can become something good. Something as simple as a change in circumstance, a helping hand, even a smile at just the right moment can change a person forever."

The shifting ripples of fear, sorrow, resolution, hope, and other emotions that accompany her words wash through him. Though her demeanor remains mostly calm, the depth of those feelings move him. It is frighteningly intimate and part of him feels shame at what would surely be considered an intrusion, but at the same time he cannot help but be drawn into it.

"I don't want to be responsible for taking away anyone's opportunity to change," she continues. "I mean, I think killing people is bad in general, but I know I will have to do it for some very good reasons. Yet who ultimately decides what a 'good reason' is? The people who try to kill us may feel their reasons are equally good." She shakes her head as if trying to clear her thoughts, "Whatever the case, if I kill them, there is no longer the chance for them becoming anything more, anything better. But I've killed quite a few demons already and is _that_ really any better? Sure, most people say they are nothing more than monsters, and they certainly look pretty monstrous, but according to you they attack us because they have lost the ability to control themselves when they are forced across to this world and that they too are beings with the potential to change. But I have killed them and now they can never become anything different."

She takes a breath and lets it out slowly, and he finds himself holding his own, waiting to hear what she says next.

"I don't know, it just makes me sad. I know tomorrow we will find more rifts and I will kill more demons, because I have to, because if the rifts aren't closed more demons will just come through anyway and more people could die. And by the time we get to the Hinterlands we will have to kill people too and somehow I will have to deal with that as well. It's just sad, especially since now I have to be part of the killing too. One more responsibility I don't want but which I must take on."

After she finishes speaking she turns to meet his eyes. Even if he could not have felt her emotions, he would have known the sincerity of her words through her voice alone, and the look in her eyes now would have certainly verified it beyond doubt.

In fact the current torrent of his own emotions is overwhelming his ability to read her beyond his own eyes and ears. Her true concern for spirits, her fear of killing, his own sorrow of her being forced into such a position, and yet the wonder and elation of knowing how much she cares. He can only just meet her eyes as this flood washed over him.

"Sorry," she says as she looks away again, gaze turning to her hands, "I guess I tend to ramble when my thoughts get heavy."

Through his own emotional storm he still picks up her sudden feeling of nervous awkwardness and fear. He feels her begin to withdraw and acts without thinking. He stands and approaches her, sitting beside her and laying his and across her fidgeting hands, trying to still her worries with them.

She turns her eyes up to meet his and he is caught in them, suddenly struck by the beauty of everything she is. Sympathy and sorrow that she inevitably will be forced to kill, for a greater good, fill him at the same time. It is a truly cruel world that would put someone like her in this position and she deserves so much better. And yet, he believes in her, is sure that if anyone can succeed in the tasks ahead and do good with the influence and position she has been given, it is her. He cannot protect her from the horrors she will face but perhaps he can at least gift her with this truth.

Her eyes remain locked with his as he begins to speak, "You have a rare and marvelous spirit. Your thoughtfulness and compassion, rare things in this dark and broken world, deserving to have been born into another world, a better world, a world that would never force you to endure such horrors. I am sorry you have been placed in this position and yet, that it is someone like you in this role gives me more hope than you can imagine. You have faced the challenges thus far with strength and determination. You have set yourself to seek out whatever knowledge will aid you without prejudice or bias, nor have you let the judgment of others deter your resolve."

Surprise and confusion follow in the wake of his words but there is something else beneath them too. He longs to reach out to her, to pull her close and ease whatever fears fill her, remove the uncertainties she bears, but he resists the urge, instead tightening his hold on her hands. "I cannot protect you from whatever is to come, the future will find us whether we will it or not, but I promise to do everything I can to aid you in overcoming any of its challenges. Whatever help I can offer, you need only ask."

He waits, allowing her time as she struggles against the waves of emotions that seem to be overwhelming both of them.

"Thank you." she gets out, words soft but full of feeling. "Thank you, _ma sarennas_. It... that really means a lot to me."

He sees her smile, warm despite her lingering confusion, and he smiles in return, "You are welcome."

He continues looking at her for several moments but it soon becomes too much for him as well. His own emotions are no less confused now, so he finally breaks eye contact and reluctantly removes his hand from hers.

He stands and speaks in what he hopes is a calm voice, "I will retire now." She nods and he heads towards his tent.

"Good night, Solas," her soft sweet voice calls to him.

He looks back and smiles, " _On nydha, lethallan_."

Once he's inside his tent and alone again, he sits heavily upon his bedroll, running his hands over his face. Though separated by the tent and out of view of each other, the feeling of her remains strong and ever-present to his senses. For the first time, it is almost painful to feel it, how close she feels, how much closer he wishes he could draw her, and yet how far away he must keep her.

She feels it too, he is almost certain, something in her that also wants to pull him closer. There is a resistance there as well though, there is fear and a sense of holding back. It stings slightly, but really, isn't it sensible? They have not known each other long, there are plenty of reasons she should not trust him enough to let him in any further than she has. Truly, he has no right to _any_ of her trust, he is lying to her about so many things and the truth can only hurt her. Yes, it is good that she holds back, it will keep her safe, and that is what he wants most. He will do his best to protect her, even from himself, and so he must keep his distance.

With this determination he finally settles himself and prepares to sleep. It takes longer than usual, but finally he drifts into the Fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear readers! I hope this chapter finds you well. I hope you enjoy it too.
> 
> I always love hearing from you so don't hesitate to say 'Hi' if you feel so inclined. 
> 
> As always, you can also find me on tumblr @mayonaka-no-tenshi
> 
> Take care!! (^_^)v


	6. Internal Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Ch20-21 in "Reality Dreaming"

The next morning he awakes feeling less refreshed than usual. The conflicting feelings of the night before do not seem to have dissipated and only get worse when he sees her. She is always quiet in the mornings, but she seems a little more distant today, as she takes care of her usual morning tasks in preparation of their departure. Her focus seems to keep her emotions in check however, and he can't get more than a vague sense of what she feels. It is for the best, he suspects, and tries to adopt a similar strategy himself. 

It is easier once they get on the road, Varric telling yet another story offers a convenient distraction until he catches the telltale turn of her head and slight clenching of her fist that indicates a rift is nearby.

He notices Bryn has seen it too. It is a reminder to him that the woman is far more observant than anyone seems to give her credit for. She is quiet on the road, and fierce on the battlefield, but it is easy to forget that she had been a spy before she'd become the Herald's weapons trainer. It is seeing her notice small things like this that give her away, and he has to wonder what else the woman noticed.

They find four more rifts that day and he mentally continues to kick himself for each one. There are so many just in this region and their existence is all his fault. He watches as she disrupts and finally closes each one, the power of the Anchor reverberating through his senses each time and reminding him it is also his fault that she is here and having to bear such a burden. She carries it well, better than he'd expected really, but it should never have been hers to bear.

That is another thing though. He'd expected the mark to affect her more strongly than it has. He sees her almost thoughtlessly stroking the palm of her left hand sometimes, as if there were a scar, though he already knows the hand itself is as smooth and undamaged as it's counterpart. He knows it is the hum of magic within that must draw her attention too it. Yet, other than this, it seems not to cause her pain or discomfort. Even once it was stabilized, he had not expected it to become this calm. More than that, where once the feel of the mark's magic had been distinct from her own, it had now incorporated itself as a kind of harmony to the magic she already possessed. He had not thought such a thing possible and he had no idea what it might mean, but for now he was just glad she did not have to bear further suffering as a result of his mistakes.

The fourth rift that day is larger than others they have yet encountered and the number of demons around it keep him occupied so that he is unable to keep all the barriers up throughout. He feels it when she is hit and her connection to the rift is severed as she attempts to disrupt it. A shot of panic hits him and he hurries to take out the demon that is currently assailing him, but it is a few more seconds before he can get a barrier around her.

He does his best to ignore the heat of the anger he feels coming from her until after the fight. At first, he is sure it is directed at him in his failure to defend her properly, but eventually he recognizes how the feeling is turned within, as it so often is when frustration threatens to overtake her.

 

That night, it is barely fifteen minutes into the lesson when he must insist on stopping. For the first time ever, she fights him on it, insisting they continue, but he can feel the emotions taking over as her usual control over them weakens. It is becoming clear to him that the stress of the last few days, combined with her continued failure with barriers, is beginning to wear on her. If they continue, he knows it will only exacerbate the problem so he cannot allow it to continue, "No _da'len_ , you cannot continue in such a state. Until you can remain calm and focused you will not be able to succeed in creating a proper barrier, you will try again tomorrow." It comes out stronger than he intends, but perhaps the stress has affected him slightly as well.

The force of his response seems to catch her off guard and it is enough to quiet her next argument, allowing him to move the lesson on to the staff technique. Again, it succeeds in calming her and she has all the movements memorized before they are finished.

The next morning however, she keeps herself closed off and distant. At first he thinks she just slept badly, perhaps more bad dreams. He determines to ask later in the morning after her usual reticence has worn off. But she remains withdrawn and silent well into the afternoon. He's beginning to worry at this point, but the emotional wall she has set up around herself is so palpable he is hesitant to approach.

In the end, it is Varric who manages to break through. He listens from a short distance off as the dwarf points out exactly what he'd been sensing from her all morning. Apparently, the others had been well aware of the situation as well. It has always been a somewhat baffling question for him actually, he wonders how people can possibly understand one another's feelings so well when they cannot sense them directly. Yet he can clearly see now, by the way Cassandra and Bryn are also listening to the exchange, that they too are concerned about the situation.

He watches with some fascination as Varric finally gets her talking. She tries, at first, to brush off the dwarf's concern but when he actually has her laughing a few moments later he can feel a tension between everyone in the group, which he hadn't noticed until that moment, break. He realizes for the first time then that it is not only he who is invested in this woman's well being. Somehow she has captured them all, and though he believes she is worthy of it, he has underestimated the others in thinking they would not be aware of it themselves.

He sees them all differently now, perhaps they too are more than he'd first assumed they could be. Perhaps they are capable of more too.

Though his focus remains primarily on her, he begins to pay more attention to their other companions as well. If she trusts them as she does him, perhaps he should offer some of the same courtesy.

 

***

 

He can tell the difference immediately by her expression as she reacts to yet another rift. The tension in her is different than usual and she clenches her hand more tightly. There is an undercurrent of worry that hasn't been there for the last couple days.

Once they get a little closer he can feel it too. This rift is different, it feels more powerful, meaning it is probably bigger too.

These suspicions are soon confirmed once they get closer. A large pride demon is among those surrounding the rift and it is clear this will be a much tougher fight than they've faced so far. After some discussion, it's decided he will lend support to Cassandra as they both try to wear down the pride demon and try to keep it away from the rift, where the others will focus on clearing a path through the smaller demons for Lyara to disrupt the rift.

He casts barriers on everyone and they quickly move into action. Everything goes according to plan at the start, and for a while it looks like things are going to work out pretty smoothly. Unfortunately, more demons appear before they can clear out very many of them. With the unusual number of demons present, the group near the rift becomes somewhat disorganized and ends up pretty spread out. Without any other cover, he is having to keep a barrier on Cassandra, even with her own defensive capabilities. It is hard to keep barriers on the others at the same time, while he does his best to dodge the pride demon's attacks prompted by his efforts to continually lure its attention away from those by the rift. It is a very tricky balance.

The battle wears on for minutes and it seems they are making very little headway.

During one of his regular glances towards the others fighting by the rift he sees Lyara struggling against two demons on her own, the others of their party a ways off, equally occupied and unable to aid her. He sees one of the demons strike at her as she barely manages to dodge it and brace for another before striking back. Without another thought he gathers his magic.

He hears Cassandra call his name just as he casts the barrier. When he turns back again he sees the pride demon already moving to strike. There's no time to get out of the way or cast as the blow approaches.

The barrier surrounds him the merest instant before the blow connects, but it is enough. He is able to roll out of the way before another blow can come, as Cassandra dashes in for a new attack and he renews his own attacks upon the large demon.

A minute later, after they've finally taken down the pride demon and the rift is being sealed, he realizes what must have happened. She must have finally succeeded in casting the barrier. Though he was sure she would manage it eventually, what is unexpected is that she had made quite a powerful barrier and she had done it completely without the aid of her staff, which is still with the horses.

Though he is glad of her success, she had been in the middle of a fight with two demons already, and yet she had turned her energy and focus towards him to protect him. Why would she do that? He is baffled for a few seconds, it is exactly the same as what he'd done only moments previous to it, but she must be protected and she should not be putting herself at risk for his sake.

He decides he should reprimand her for such behavior, but when he looks up to where she is standing and their eyes meet as she too turns towards him. He feels relief wash over her, mirroring his own feelings in that moment. She is ok and that is what matters most.

What seems like only a moment later she is standing in front of him, "Are you okay?" she says, the worry clear in her eyes and aura, "I saw that demon almost hit you."

"In fact it did hit me," he says making his best effort not to betray his emotions, "Fortunately, your barrier went up just in time so that I suffered no injury. It seems you have finally succeeded in overcoming your difficulties casting barriers, and without a staff."

She blinks at him, with a look of surprise, "I didn't even realize what I was doing, I just did it when I saw the danger, I'm glad it worked though."

"As am I." He offers a smile then, which she returns briefly before withdrawing again and turning to face the others as they begin to regroup. Neither of them makes any mention of the risk they had each taken for the other and he finds it is not something he really wants to confront just now after all. Better to just accept it for what it is

Surprisingly everyone is fine, there are no major injuries, nothing beyond a few cuts and bruises. They are remarkably fortunate. Even so, they are tired and it is decided they will make camp a little early that day.

They find a place near the river, which seems to please the Herald quite a bit. He is glad to have the opportunity to wash as well, but he realizes other benefits when he sees her return from the river, skin flushed from the cold water, short wet hair that clings to the side of her face until she gently pulls it away with careful finger tips, and the overall invigorated feeling she gives off as she sits down at the fire and smiles his way. Of course, it is shortly after this he decides it would be best if he takes advantage of the cold water sooner rather than later.

 

Her mood is somewhat dampened a little later, once discussion on what they can expect when entering the Hinterlands begins. He remembers their conversation from the other day and the fears she expressed at killing people. It is something that concerns him as well. He knows she is capable, but he is unsure what being forced to such action will do to her. In this she is truly innocent, and she deserves to stay that way. Unfortunately, this is not the kind of world that will allow such a thing to abide. It is some kind of miracle that has allowed her to make it this long, relatively untouched by certain harsh realities. Still, in order to do what she must, it is inevitably something she will have to face, yet doing so will almost certainly change her. He can only hope that she will bear the effects well and simply become stronger for it.

Once the discussion concludes, she asks him if they can practice barriers again, to be sure she will be able to repeat today's performance. He readily agrees to do so and they head a short way from the camp to a wider area for them to work. They run through barriers and then move on to other defensive techniques they had only briefly covered before, but which may prove very useful in the days to come. She performs everything flawlessly. The magic seemed to be flowing through her more freely now and she wields it with greater control. It seemed as if she has mastered her magic overall in a new way.

"Good," he tells her, quite pleased with the performance, "it seems your breakthrough today has opened up your abilities in more ways than just barriers, I believe many of your spells will be stronger now. If you are satisfied perhaps it is best to rest for the remainder of the evening. I'm sure the next few days will be eventful."

He starts to turn and head back to the camp but she stops him before he can complete the movement.

"I'd actually like to practice that staff sequence a little more first, if it would be ok."

He looks at her a moment. It isn't very late, and perhaps it will help calm her mind ahead of the trials they will soon face. "If you'd like," he replies calmly.

"Could you demonstrate it for me again first? I want to get a feel for how the magic is supposed to move. Now that I have the movements, I want to see if I can add in a little of the magic as well."

Without a word, he moves into position to satisfy her request. He gathers his magic and runs through the sequence a few times as she watches with a mix of fascination and focused concentration. Once he is finished, she simply picks up her own staff and moves to position herself beside him, mimicking his position and gathering her magic as he had done.

Once she is ready, she gives him a nod and he begins the sequence again.

He can feel as the magic begins to flow through her. It is very weak at first but he can tell she is hitting the key points. The second time is stronger, her movements are more sure and the magic flows more smoothly. By the fifth, she is moving easily, the magic reaching through every part of her, following her as she controls its rhythm the same way she does her movements.

At this point he puts down his staff. Her eyes are closed as she becomes one with her own magic and ignores all else around her. He moves away to a better vantage point and continues to watch, entranced. He has never watched this sequence being performed before, he has never taught it to another, but in this moment he knows he has made the right choice in teaching it to her.

Time seems to slip away as he watches her but eventually she comes to a stop. He enjoys the little flourish of magic she adds to the end as if announcing the completion of the performance.

When she opens her eyes, they soon find his own and he feels a flash of shyness from her, quickly smothered as she moves toward him casually. She stops a short distance away and he battles with himself between his wish that she would come closer and the feeling that she is already far too close.

"So, what's your assessment?" she asks with an air of casualness.

"It was beautiful," he says. He can't help saying the words, but he does everything he can to keep his expression neutral as he meets her eyes, and not give in to the impulse to reach out to her.

A pale blush rises beautifully to her ears and face as she looks away shyly but meets his eyes again soon after with a smile, "Thank you, but I was actually wondering what I still needed to work on. I'm sure it isn't as perfect as you." She falters and starts again, "Or...I mean... my technique isn't as perfect as yours."

He can feel she is flustered and nervous, but he also feels the undercurrent of something warmer that seems to draw him to her, and she is so lovely in this state. He knows he should be distant, he should remain her teacher and nothing more. He should offer his critique of her performance without any, more personal, comments.

"It can still be refined yes, there are a few eddies within your magic that have yet to be smoothed out. However, you move with a grace I doubt I can match. I have even begun to see it in your fighting style, now that you are becoming more comfortable in battle."

Ok, that wasn't quite as distant as he was hoping, but he supposes it wasn't too bad. He does not expect the response she gives however: "Well, I guess dancing really does pay off then."

She is a dancer? Being an artist would certainly explain a few things about her. Although, that is not what most interests him in the moment as he does his best not to imagine how she might look dancing, wondering what sort of dance she favors. Instead he tries focusing on the shyness she is doing her best to hide behind a casual demeanor. He can tell she is revealing a little piece of herself to him and feels unsure how he might react. He feels a warmth go through him to know she is so concerned about his opinion.

"You dance?" he asks, watching her.

"I did, a long time ago. It was always one of my favorite things to be honest, but you know, life just gets in the way sometimes. It isn't exactly a _practical_ pastime."

There is a melancholy in her now, and he does not like how it dampens her spirits, "If it is something you enjoy, you shouldn't give up on it so easily."

She gives a small sigh and shrug before answering, "I never gave it up exactly, I just haven't been able to focus on it the way I once did. I still do try to dance when I get the chance though, it doesn't happen often but I take what opportunities happen to present themselves."

The regret is clear, even in her voice, though she does her best to act as if it doesn't really matter. He wonders what circumstances in life pushed her away from something she clearly loves, but in this world there are probably too many to count. Still, he thinks there must be a way she can incorporate such activities back into her life. Already it is evident that it has favorably affected her ability to fight, perhaps she could further hone these skills through the practice of something she clearly enjoys. "I believe it may be time to devote a little more focus to the practice again, as clearly it does have practical applications."

"Oh really," she says in surprise, "Somehow I don't think my enemies will care if I'm graceful or not when I'm killing them."

He shakes his head, "That is not what I mean. You have trained your body to move with coordination and control. You possess flexibility few fighters can claim. These qualities give you distinct advantages on the battlefield. The grace with which you move is simply a pleasing side benefit."

The words come out before he really thinks them through. He feels the responding flutter of surprise and pleasure and he is gratified to see the pleased flush as she demurely drops her eyes before bravely lifting them to face him again.

The flush rises a little more but she continues to hold his eyes, and even takes a couple steps closer, smiling at him. He stays unmoving in his surprise.

"You know," she says, looking over him slowly, "you're quite graceful with that staff yourself. I'd bet you'd make an excellent dance partner." Her eyes meet his again and he sees a challenge in them.

He keeps his tone even as he replies, holding her gaze, "Perhaps we will have to test that theory one day."

She smiles back calmly, "Perhaps we will."

At her words he feels a spark of something shoot through him, but before he can offer any response she is turning away again, walking back towards the camp at a natural pace.

He watches her go, unable to pull his eyes away from her departing form.

Once she is out of view he tries to shake himself back to his senses, which she seems to have severely compromised. He does his best to pull himself together quickly and follows after her, entering the camp to see her sitting next to Varric as he pulls out a set of cards.

Though everything about her manner is casual, and she is not looking his way, he can feel her attention on him. She is just as aware of him as he is of her now, and he is not in a mood to allow her to escape so easily. He chooses a seat where he knows she will see him anytime she looks up, and from which he may easily watch her in turn, without seeming to.

He watches and listens to their game and stories, in between passages in the book he brought along. He hardly recalls a single sentence he reads however. Instead, much of his time is spent staring at the page but seeing nothing.

He knows his actions are becoming ridiculous. He reminds himself, yet again, that he should remain focused and distant. It is best for all of them, and a necessity if he is to achieve his goals. He cannot afford any distractions, and surely none of these people are worthy of his attention compared to his duty to restore those whose world this truly is.

But when he looks up and sees her laughing across the fire, the quick dash of her eyes towards him and away again, as she sees the direction of his own gaze, sends something warm through him and he forgets everything else for a moment.

If she had been actively trying to pursue him he might do better at resisting, but up till now she has seemed to be determinedly keeping herself at a distance, trying to resist even the smallest flirtations. It is what he should be doing as well; anything else is courting disaster. But something about her, and the way she's resisted what he can sense is there seems to awaken the hunter in him. He's caught her inexplicably enthralling scent and the more she runs the more he is instinctually driven to chase her.

It had been fine at first. As long as she did keep running and didn't allow herself to be caught it was safe, the chase merely a small game between them and nothing real behind it. But tonight, she had turned the tables and flirted back, taunting him deliberately, revealing openly some of her own feelings, before running off again and it turned his blood hot in away he couldn't remember feeling before.

As he repeatedly fails to shift his attention to other things besides the confounding woman across from him, so she seems to fail at playing the card game Varric and Bryn are trying to instruct her in. He can see she understands the rules, but seems unsuccessful at employing the necessary manipulations that could earn her a win. He is actually surprised at this, she is such a mystery to him, clearly full of secrets of her own that he cannot even begin to divine, and yet her ability to willfully lie seems lacking somehow. Of course, there is also the fact that she has been somewhat distracted. She has done well keeping her eyes focused on her cards but he senses quite clearly the lack of attention upon them.

Still, he is glad when the game finishes and everyone seems ready to retire. If nothing else, it will likely be an improvement if they are at least out of each other's line of vision.

As he is collecting his things he continues to listen in on their conversation.

"I think we need to work on your bluffing skills," Varric says as he puts the cards away.

She sighs at the comment before replying, "Yeah, probably. It just really doesn't come naturally to me, I'm a terrible liar."

"You will need to become better then," Bryn adds, "Lies and deception are tactics you cannot afford to neglect. You must learn to use proper feints in a fight, which can potentially save your life. As the Herald you may be called to visit Orlais and The Game is a great tapestry of lies, which you must at least learn to navigate, if not master, because that too may be a matter of life or death. This game may serve as a training ground for such skills as may serve you throughout the coming ordeals."

He cannot disagree with Bryn's assessment. Such skills have an abundance of uses and offer significant advantage.

"I know, you're right," she agrees with a note of defeat, "but it's one of those things I really wish I didn't have to learn. I really wish we lived in a world where it was at least safe to be more honest. It seems the world runs on lies and the only way to survive is to fall in step."

Her eyes turn in his direction then, meeting his own which had been watching her during the conversation. The look holds for a moment before he nods her way, "Good night, sleep well," he says and turns to enter his tent.

"You too, goodnight." He hears her words behind him as the flap closes shielding him from the sight of her, if not the awareness of her presence.

He is shaken for a moment. For one instant it had seemed as if her comment on lies had been directed straight at him. But a moment's reflection reassures him that could not be possible. More likely it is his own shame at the mountain of secrets he is keeping from her, tormenting him.

He again has trouble falling asleep and he wonders if this might become some kind of pattern. He hopes not.

He eventually does find his way into the Fade. He does not trust his mind enough to allow himself to slip into dreams and instead makes his way to see Wisdom.

He enters her familiar garden, and finds her along one of its many paths.

"Hello Solas, it is good to see you," she greets him warmly, turning towards his approach. She can sense his emotions are somewhat agitated tonight, but he is guarding them. "You seem somewhat distressed, is anything wrong?"

"No," he answers a little to quickly, though his tone is even. "No, nothing of great concern. We will be entering the Hinterlands tomorrow and the party has some concerns over what we will find tomorrow. There are likely to be many Templars and rebel mages eager for combat."

"That is unfortunate, though you are not unfamiliar with battle, I am sure you will be fine. Is there concern over your companions?"

"No, each of them is quite capable." His answer is simple but she feels the unfinished thought and she waits patiently until he is ready to complete it. "The Herald... she has never killed another person before. I am simply concerned that it may affect her adversely."

She studies him, it is unusual for him to be this guarded when seeking her counsel and she is not sure what to make of it.

"Do you fear she will enjoy the experience and become someone cruel and corrupt?" She asks.

He looks startled at the question and then slightly angry, "No, I am quite sure there is no danger of that." He frowns then, looking for the right words. "No," he says more softly this time, "I am more concerned that it may injure her spirit. She is naturally someone who is more suited to creation and helping others, than destruction. But I wondered... Do you think being forced to kill might break her spirit in some way?" He pauses and she sees a hint of deep concern before he hides again behind a more dispassionate mask, "It would complicate matters if she is not able to continue fighting or is otherwise impeded from continuing to seal the rifts and find a way to seal the Breach."

She looks away and adopts a similarly casual tone, beginning to walk along the path, "Is she a very weak person then? Timid? Afraid?"

He follows a short distance behind and she feels the spark of anger again at her words. Though his tone remains dispassionate, the words that follow suggest some greater feeling, "No, she is not. She is determined, intelligent, and strong. She has accomplished much in the short time since she closed the Breach."

"Then I think you have little need to worry. The experience may affect her for a time but if her spirit is as strong as you say, she will recover. If she has support from those around her, the recovery will be swifter." She keeps her air dispassionate but she can sense some of his relief.

"You are sure?" he asks.

She turns and looks at him pointedly for questioning her judgment.

"There is much at stake," he says in response, "I will not allow unnecessary risks. Too much has gone wrong already."

There is coldness in his voice and cracks in his wall reveal some conflict now within him. She has never seen him this way and it is a curious situation, but it is clear he does not wish to share it.

"Do not worry. From what you have told me, I believe this Herald will perform her duties as necessary." She turns away again, leading him away from the garden and out into the Fade. "Come," she beckons, "I would like to show you something you might find of interest."

Since he is unwilling to speak openly of whatever is troubling him she decides it may be best to simply find a distraction from it.

Grateful to be offered something that might divert his thoughts away from _her_ for a time, he follows Wisdom further into the Fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greeting all my dear readers! I hope you are all well!
> 
> I think I'm going to try to put up a chapter of this every other week or so until it's caught up with the main story. This one has been flowing a little easier anyway.
> 
> Hope you all have a great week! Take care!


	7. Death and Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Chapters 22-23 of Reality Dreaming

His head feels a little clearer the next morning and he is reassured after speaking with Wisdom.

He can feel Lavellan's presence stirring across the camp and she seems to be in good spirits, though she is as quiet as usual upon waking.

The morning passes with little fuss until the raven arrives. The moment Cassandra announces the conditions they will be heading into he feels the Herald's emotions shift into fear he has not felt from her since they had climbed the mountain. At the same time though, she remains in control, she is filled with tension, but she continues on as normally as possible, as she fights to maintain mastery over her fears.

The morning is cloudy and dark but calm enough. It would be pleasant even, if he wasn't so constantly aware of the increasingly anxious figure not so far away. Her anxiety is so strong he cannot help but become rather tense himself.

They stop around noon to eat a quick meal before moving on and it is shortly after this that they catch the first sense of something, probably a few mages. He turns to meet her eyes only a moment before they hear the first sounds of conflict filtering through the trees.

Her tension is raw and so distracting he can barely focus on the mages ahead. Still she dismounts with the rest of them and helps guide the horses off the path, legs steady, though her gait seems slightly stiff. He maneuvers closer to her, hoping his presence might offer her some reassurance. He isn't sure it makes any difference to her, but it does ease his mind to remain close.

She is unable to answer when asked how many they are likely to face, which is not surprising. If the emotions coming from her are this distracting to him, they must be even more so for her, making it considerably more difficult to sense the details. He is able to make a good guess as to the number of mages, however, and answers Cassandra himself.

They approach the site of the battle, which finally comes into view as they crest a small hill. The situation is quickly assessed and Lavellan is to accompany Bryn and Cassandra down the hill to take the Templars face to face. He wants to argue, wants to keep her on the hill, where she won't be pitted directly against her enemy. He knows he cannot keep her out of the fight entirely but if her first kill were from a distance, perhaps it would be easier for her. But he says nothing.

Perhaps if the fear had still been overwhelming her, he would have spoken, but as they'd come up to the top of the hill the fear seemed to recede as she became focused on what they were about to do. Adrenaline and training allowing her fight response to supersede flight.

She shows no hesitation now as she follows the other women down the hill, moving swift and quiet. He wants to watch but once he sees them get close to their targets he and Varric begin their attack on the mages. A moment later he feels the wall of fire and hears cries of surprise from the Templars. Two of the mages are down now. He freezes one as Varric takes out the other before the dwarf takes aim at the now unmoving figure frozen in place.

Solas' attention is already on the other front before the last mages fall. He finds Lyara immediately, her blade plunged deep under the arm of one of the Templars, simultaneously throwing energy into maintaining the barriers around all of them. He watches as she removes one blade and strikes with the other, directly to the throat of her opponent with utter efficiency. She moves with such deadly and controlled grace it is both beautiful and horrifying to watch. She pulls the blade back and the Templar falls backwards onto the ground, clearly dead. Her first kill, their blood on her hands. At first he feels a strange blankness coming off her, but it is quickly replaced by a confused storm of feelings as she continues to stare down at the body before her.

He starts moving then, heading down the hill to where they are. He arrives to find her kneeling by the body of her victim, poised to remove the helmet but her eyes are on Cassandra as she speaks, "I will be haunted by this moment no matter what, the least I can do is give them the honor of letting their ghost wear a face."

He watches, as she leans over again and pulls the helmet off the dead Templar. Her emotions are a swirling mixture that is unreadable other than to see she is in extreme turmoil as she looks down at the dead woman's face, removes her gloves and closes the still staring eyes.

He feels helpless watching her as she is sick in the brush a few moments later. He wishes to offer some kind of comfort and yet does not know what could possibly serve in this instance.

Bryn however seems to have some idea what to do as she approaches and takes Lyara aside. It gives him a new respect for the woman, seeing her show such understanding and care.

Once they move off a ways, he and the rest of the party begin taking care of the aftermath, checking the bodies for any useful information or items. There will be no time for burial, but he can place wards to protect them from scavengers for a time.

Bryn returns alone a few minutes later.

"The Herald requires some time to process this experience privately. I told her we could give her half an hour, she will be back by then," she says matter-of-factly.

Cassandra looks ready to protest, but a sharp look from the smaller woman stops the words before they are spoken. Anyone who can intimidate the Seeker from speaking must be formidable. It is another sign to him that this is a woman he will need to watch out for. He can appreciate her attentiveness towards the Herald but it is clear she could easily become a threat to his own aims.

He is concerned for Lavellan though. She isn't completely out of range of his senses, so he will know if she is in any danger, but he cannot read her emotions from this distance. It is probably for the best, it is her right to deal with this privately, if that is what she wants. If she needs help, hopefully she will know she can ask for it. It is clear, by the unusual silence among them, and the furtive glances all of them cast towards the forest where she is hidden by the trees, that they all want to help, or do something.

He goes and picks up the stained gloves she'd left on the ground. The leather is dark and doesn't show the blood that badly, but he is sure she will see it. It is small but he can do this small thing for her. He takes them in hand and casts a simple spell to clean the blood from the leather as if it was never there. Such things could generally be considered a waste of energy, especially as they will likely become stained again soon enough, but in this case it will be worth it if it prevents additional pain from the situation.

He puts the gloves with the rest of her things when they bring down the horses and wait for her return.

Eventually she does return and he feels her approach before they see her emerge from the trees. The others give a slight breath of relief at her return. He wonders if they are more worried for her safety or that she would decide the experience was too much for her and leave instead. He knows she would not leave, it isn't likely something she would even consider. All the same, it is a relief to him as well, when he sees her figure walking slowly towards them.

He can still sense the pain in her, though it is more muted now, not nearly so turbulent as before, except for brief flashes, like when she catches a glimpse of the bodies laid out a short distance away.

When she gets close though, he can see more clearly the affects of her grief, eyes red and hollow, face pale, and hands dripping with fresh blood that is clearly her own. He sees a kind of brokenness in her eyes for a moment but as she gets closer he feels the walls go up as she does her best to pull back from them, keeping her pain to herself and showing a brave face. Without a word, only giving them a nod of acknowledgement, she goes up to her horse and mounts. They follow quickly in her wake, also not saying anything.

He is concerned by the walls she has put up. It is similar to the other day when she was frustrated and angry with herself. He thinks it may be due to her uncertainty in how they will treat her for her suffering that holds her back. And yet it seems uncharacteristic of her. She has always seemed so open and accepting of support, she's sought help from the beginning, seeking to gain knowledge and skills to aid their cause and her own survival. But this is the second time when dealing with her own pain and internal struggle, she has blatantly pulled herself away from everyone.

The walls are stronger this time too. He is glad when Varric begins to approach her, the child of the stone is always the one who has the easiest time of getting her to open up. But as the dwarf seems ready to speak she cuts him off before even a word can come out: "I don't want to talk about it Varric. I'll be ok, I just... need some time. I need to process things on my own right now, ok?"

He can't quite see her expression, but apparently whatever is there is enough to get even the usually persistant dwarf to back off with hardly a word.

If she won't even talk to Varric... He watches her for a while, wondering how he might reach her. Perhaps what she said is true, and she simply needs some time alone to come to terms with what has transpired. Even so, he wishes to reach out to her somehow, offer some gesture of support however small.

He watches as a drop of blood falls from her still damaged hands and he has an idea. He urges his horse forward carefully and eventually draws even with her.

She doesn't look at him and speaks in a voice much colder and harsher than her usual tones, "Like I told Varric, I really don't want to talk about it, ok?"

He says nothing for a moment and considers backing off. His purpose is not to talk however, so he speaks, keeping his own voice as calm and neutral as possible, "I thought I might offer my help regarding your hands."

She looks down at her hands a moment. "I'll be fine," she says, still not looking at him.

He will not relent, and if he cannot reach her emotionally, perhaps he can still appeal to her logic. He keeps his voice calm, but firm, "If they remain in this condition it may inhibit your ability to fight and hold your weapons properly, and if they become infected it will be much harder to heal. I suggest you let me tend to them."

She says nothing for several long moments and he is almost sure she will refuse.

"Fine," she says finally, displeasure clear in her voice. She guides her horse closer though, before reaching her right hand out for him to take, but still refusing to look his way. He tries not to be bothered by this and gently takes the proffered hand in his. Her hand is cold in his, and though he can tell the damage is not severe, it would certainly cause her discomfort in any future battles.

He applies the healing magic, adding a little cold to sooth and then some warmth to push back some of the chill. The moment he releases her hand she pulls it back and tests it before returning it to the reins.

"May I have your other hand now?" he prompts.

She gives a slight huff before twisting towards him and reaching out the left hand for him to take. Still she will not look at him though, as her eyes remain glued to the hand she is holding out.

He repeats the process, healing and soothing the small hand, which suddenly seems so delicate and fragile in his. He holds on this time, gently caressing her palm without really thinking about what he is doing until he feels the small shiver and looks up to meet those grey eyes that have finally looked up to meet his.

A moment later he feels the wall around her crack. He is hit with a shock of deep pain and fear. It lasts only a moment before the wall slams back into place and she yanks her hand back. Her eyes point forward again and she gets out a slightly strangled "Thank you," before she is moving ahead, straight to the front.

He watches her go, still stunned by the flash of emotion he had received from her. Something about it seemed different from the grief he'd sensed earlier but it was too short for him to determine more than that.

It had happened only when their eyes had met, and she'd been so careful to keep her gaze away from him up to that point. Could those emotions have had something to do with him? But why would they? What about him could possibly trigger such pain?

There seemed to be no end to the mysteries of the woman, though this one is more disconcerting than most.

He is so lost in thought, he hardly notices it is now raining.

 

 

Some time later he feels the rift. He looks ahead and she and Bryn start leading them in the direction of the sensation. When they get close, they dismount and begin to prepare themselves, but Cassandra speaks up after only a moment, "Herald, perhaps it would be best if you stay to the back this time. We can take care of the demons, you just concentrate on the rift."

Lavellan makes no effort to keep the annoyance from her expression, "I'll be fine, we can go in as normal."

Varric speaks up next, "There's no need to push yourself. Why not hang back a while, ease back into things?"

He can feel a flare of anger get past her walls as she responds, "No. If I start hanging back now it will just be even harder for me to get back out there later. It's just delaying the inevitable, I might as well face it and deal with it right away."

"The Herald is right. She says she is ready and it will be better in the long run if she can push through. We should proceed normally." Bryn speaks firmly, daring the others to argue.

But the split opinion of the group is obvious and without a word all eyes turn to him, except Lavellan's. He watches her, trying to determine what course truly would be best. He is concerned for her, knows she is suffering, but does not know whether time or action would serve her best. She has kept her gaze pointedly away from him all this time but he sees her eyes move up to finally meet his. As their eyes lock on each other he feels an opening in her mental defenses. Her request is plain in her eyes, behind that he feels the turmoil still within her, but there is determination too, that same determination that has already brought her so far.

He looks over at The Seeker and dwarf, addressing them, "I believe the Herald is the only one who can make this decision. If she feels it is best for her to proceed as usual, perhaps it is best to let her do so." He turns back to her again, "However, if any problems arise we may reassess the situation."

He feels her gratitude, and he gives a slight nod to acknowledge it. As they make their preparations for the rift he feels her determination rise up even more. Perhaps this is the best choice. He certainly hopes so.

The rift is handled smoothly. The Herald still seems a bit shaky but otherwise fights well and without hesitation. He can feel a little more ambivalence later in the day however, as they take on more Templars and then mages. It isn't surprising really, the act of killing living people is certainly more visceral, and of course it is the source of her current turmoil. Even so, she does what is needed, continuing to fight decisively.

As the day progresses, she remains distant but the wall is not so solid now. He gets a sense of her regaining her customary calm and focus until she is fighting at near peak efficiency. He is beginning to believe Wisdom was indeed correct: Lyara is strong and will recover from this ordeal.

 

 

They are all exhausted once they reach the main Inquisition camp, and they all look rather the worse for wear. It had been raining on and off all day. The women have had the worst of it however, as it is they who have done all of the hand to hand combat, and the blood has become indistinguishable from the mud streaked across their armor. The gloves Solas had cleaned earlier can no longer boast that pristine status, but she seems comfortable enough wearing them now.

They get an update, from a dwarf scout, on the status of the area and it sounds as though the next day will be at least as trying as today has been. They are then offered food and shown to an area where they can set up camp and rest.

Everyone is grateful for the food and general peace and safety of the camp. Their talk remains light, Varric telling yet another story of some exploit of his or another, and there is little reference to the events of the day.

Lavellan reacts to the conversation in a seemingly normal way, but he can still read very little from her, only sensing a kind of blank wall. It is impressive, after a fashion, how well she is able to maintain such a barrier around her emotions. He wonders if she is aware of what she is doing or if it is simply some natural reaction or instinct brought on by the trials of the day, or perhaps the nature of her suffering.

They all retire early to recover from the long day to prepare for the next.

As Solas settles down and prepares to sleep, he realizes that the experiences of the day will likely affect her experience in the Fade. The strong emotions that today's events have stirred up will surely be strong attractions for spirits that may seek to use her vulnerability against her.

He remembers the conversation of a few days previous in which he expressed his confidence that she would be able to handle spirits taking advantage of her, the assertion was not untrue, but even so he cannot help but be concerned. She is still inexperienced in such matters and spirits can be very cunning and manipulative. Will she be able to recognize a spirit in disguise for what it is? He does believe in her strength of will but her inexperience could be an issue.

He lays on his bedroll debating with himself for a while until he gets the sense that she has finally fallen asleep in her tent a short distance away. He makes the decision then, closes his eyes, and enters the Fade.

 

 

He has never sought it before but it doesn't take him long to gain a sense of her in the Fade. It is much harder to block ones emotions and thoughts here, and one is more apt to let down their guard.

He follows the feeling until the Fade transforms around him to appear like a kind of forest. It looks similar the Hinterlands, though there is a much darker and more ominous cast about it. He can tell he is getting close as he hears the sounds of battle ahead.

He decides to shift into wolf form. He has no intention of revealing his presence unless she truly seems to be in trouble, but if she were to somehow capture a glimpse of him, it would be better if she did not recognize him.

He knows he really shouldn't be here at all. It is almost certainly a breach of her privacy to be here without invitation, but he also cannot simply leave her to fend for herself in her currently vulnerable state. He believes her capable, but... just in case...

He arrives at the scene of battle. It seems he has missed the start of the battle because a number of bodies are already on the ground and she is currently fighting off quite a few more. The battle is fierce and she is unhesitating in her attacks, utilizing magic and her blades to great effect. In fact he has never seen her fight so fiercely before. He can feel her determination and sense of purpose, though he does not know what that purpose is.

It does not take long for the battle to be over, bodies littering the otherwise empty field, silence falling on what had been chaos mere moments before. He watches as she seems to be looking for something, sensing the confusion that follows at apparently not finding whatever it is she seeks.

Soon she turns her gaze down to one of the bodies lying at her feet. She leans down and a sense of dread now spills out of her as she reaches out to remove the helmet obscuring the face of her victim.

The scream that soon follows comes paired a wave of horror and panic that ruffles his fur before he can even catch sight of the cause. Though he is some distance away, hidden behind the tree line, the nature of the Fade allows him to see clearly that the body at her feet is that of the Seeker.

He feels her horror deepen as she removes the helmets from the remaining bodies, revealing each of their companions, and even himself. The pang of her shock and horrified grief strikes a familiar chord in him. A part of him wants to immediately go to her and reassure her that none of it is real.

Before he can even debate the merits of such an action though, another figure appears.

As he had feared, spirits are being drawn to her pain.

Then he hears the voice, "What have you done, _lethallan_?"

As she turns the figure clearly takes on his own appearance before her eyes and for a moment he is stunned to see his image standing there, looking over the bodies of the dead.

He barely has a chance to wonder at this manifestation before there is another voice and another figure, "You were supposed to protect us, we trusted you." Bryn spoke from next to her own corpse.

He sees Lyara step back quickly until they are both within her view, shock, fear, and guilt palpable in the air. "I... I thought I was protecting you. I don't know what happened."

He wants to help her, to banish these demons who torment her but he knows this is her battle. He mustn't step in too soon, not before she has even had the chance to try to deal with it herself, especially after he'd already expressed his confidence in her abilities. He reminds himself of this over and over, to hold his instinct to do otherwise at bay, as the conversation continues.

"I suppose we should have known better, your incompetence was clear. I'd hoped you would prove a better student but you were too inexperienced and too slow to learn," Bryn says and he can feel Lyara's own fear react to the words.

She looks back toward the apparition bearing his face, she seems to be looking for some comfort, but it sadly shakes its head instead and looks down at the dead again, "I suppose we were doomed the moment it was you who gained the mark. Almost anyone else would have been better, but fate has seen fit to ensure our downfall."

He is angered to hear his image used this way against her, causing her this pain. He still doesn't move though his hackles are raised and he is all but growling. Silently he begs her to recognize these deceptions for what they are.

And then there is a change.

Tears still running down her cheeks, she looks back at the false version of him with a kind of confusion before closing her eyes in concentration. _Yes_ , he thinks, _look past the facade, see what is really before you._

The moment stretches but she finally opens her eyes and looks back at the deceitful spirit with his face, "You're not Solas." His relief at her words allows him to relax just a little. "And that probably means you aren't Bryn either," she continues, head turning to the second demons figure.

With the announcement of her realization the demons no longer try to conceal their intentions as they blatantly try to manipulate her.

A moment later she has correctly identified the entities as demons. She is even able to name them. It is remarkable she is able to do so if this is her first encounter with spirits. They wear their disguises well, so he must assume that she is able to get a sense of what they are directly. It is not something he has yet considered, that her senses within the Fade may be comparable to those she possesses in the waking world. She has mentioned having more control in dreams than previously, and she has expressed her interest in spirits, but otherwise she has said little about her actual experiences in the Fade. Of course, one's experience here can be very personal, so he cannot begrudge her decision to keep such things to herself. It makes him feel another pang of shame for being here.

Still, he is already here, he might as well see this through. His confidence is growing that she will be able to drive Fear and Despair off, but he will remain just to be sure. It is mostly selfish of him he knows, he is curious now about her experiences in the Fade but his concern still outweighs this. He knows she is suffering and he wants to do something for her but he feels helpless, if he can at least be here, ready to help if anything goes wrong, maybe that is enough.

The demons now make no effort to disguise themselves, nor their agenda, though they have not removed the masks they have donned for the occasion. She clearly sees what they are now, but he can tell that their words have still had some effect on her. However, when the despair demon, who has taken on his own image, tries to push their advantage, reaching out to her offering their help, there is a sudden and very distinct change in her manner.

There is a flash of anger and disgust followed by solid conviction and determination. "I do not need your help. I am very familiar with both of you and I know that if I let you have reign, my failure is all but guaranteed." Her voice is strong now, and she stands tall against her own fear.

He is certain of her success now, she will be able to banish these two without any doubt. She does not need him here and he should go, but he cannot quite seem to pull himself away from the scene before him.

Fear snarls at her, no longer feigning friendship, "and how do you plan to overcome us? We are not so weak as to be simply brushed aside. I can feel the fear in you, how will you stop it?"

The fear in her is still there, but she holds it at bay as she similarly confronts Fear before her, "I don't need to overcome you, I have great respect for fear. You can be a great teacher and acknowledging your presence allows one to learn caution, to think before acting. Fear can also heighten the senses and improve performance." She steps forward and he sees as Fear nearly flinches from the movement. Most mages would attack at this point fight to drive off the tormenting spirit, but she seems determined to simply face them down, "No, I have no wish to eliminate fear, it can be an important asset, but it cannot be the only thing. If I allow fear to overcome me it can only lead to you," She turns now to Despair. "But if I can manage my fear I can turn despair into something else."

He stands transfixed as she approaches Despair, there is a calm in her now guiding her forward, through fear that would otherwise have her shaking. "I can turn it to something I would embrace wholeheartedly and hold onto till the end." She moves to stand directly in front of the spirit, meeting its eyes.

The spirit now seems to be the one overcome as she faces them down. "And what would that be?" They say, looking down, feigned confidence in their voice and confusion in their eyes.

Both his own eyes and those of his double follow the path of her hand as she raises it to the visage of the spirit before her and though she speaks softly, the power of the answer she gives reverberates through the Fade, "Hope."

He almost feels it himself as she places those delicate fingers upon the face before her, caressing down the length of it.

The shudder that courses through him just watching, is mirrored a moment later by the spirit just before it disappears, her hand still poised in midair.

The hand drops as she turns to face the remaining spirit. She advances and the spirit soon retreats too, unable to withstand the courage of the woman before it.

There is silence in the emptiness that follows. The field she stands in is free of bodies or anything else. The danger is over but he seems unable to move in the wake of what she has done. She banished moderately powerful spirits, amidst her own personal turmoil, and she did so without even the suggestion of aggression, instead facing them with opposing forces to the nature of the spirits themselves.

He continues watching now as she collapses to the ground, shaking with relief and broken tension. She doesn't seem to really understand what it is she did, but it hardly matters, his confidence in her was well placed.

It isn't until she stands again that he remembers that he shouldn't be there. And if she was able to sense the identities of the spirits she'd faced, she will certainly recognize his presence, with nothing else to distract her, if he lingers much longer.

He gives her one last look, before turning and running back through the forest the way, he'd come, nothing more than a blur of white fur through the trees.

He does not see her turn and look towards the place he'd stood only a moment before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the slight delay, wasn't feeling well yesterday and couldn't get this ready in time. I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> Have a great week guys! As always, thank you for reading!!


	8. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Chapter 24 of "Reality Dreaming"

When Solas wakes early the next morning, he cannot shake the shame of his intrusion. He has repeated the justifications for his decision to himself many times, but he cannot feel it was truly the right thing to do. He is glad he at least did not try to interfere, but he feels hesitant to face her this morning. He knows he should probably be honest with her and admit his transgression, but cannot help worry over what reaction she might have. 

She is not yet awake when he finally emerges into the still dark morning and in the end Cassandra has to go and wake her.

Her mental wall from the night before seems weak enough this morning that he can tell she is not in a particularly good mood. This is made obvious to everyone once she comes out and actually threatens to stab Varric for his usual teasing. Despite this Solas approaches her with some breakfast, which she takes after a few moments as she obviously fights the haze of sleep still upon her.

She takes a seat by the fire and pokes at the contents of the bowl for about a minute before actually taking a bite, grimacing as she swallows. "Do you find the porridge disagreeable?" He asks as he sits down next to her, deeming it safe enough as she hasn't threatened to stab him yet.

"It's fine, I just don't like eating this early, especially something this heavy," she says as she takes another bite, which by all appearances is no better than the first.

As with most mornings, it's clear she isn't in a very conversational mood. He would normally let her be but he wants to better assess her mental state and be sure the night's trials has left no lingering effects that might impede her. Since he cannot read her emotions well enough, the only other option is to speak with her, so he tries to engage her in some kind of discourse, "I see. You should eat as much as you can though, I am certain you will need the energy."

She frowns and he isn't sure if it is because of his words, the food, the early hour, or something else entirely. More than likely it is some combination of these, but she responds nonetheless, "I know. I wouldn't have taken the bowl otherwise. I'm sure it's going to be a long day."

He watches from the corner of his eye as she tries to control a large yawn. He cannot help remembering clearly her experience in the Fade. She can't have slept well as a result, and it is likely the memory of what transpired is not far from her mind either. He decides to see if she is willing to speak to him about it, "Did you not sleep well?" He asks gently, trying to remain casual.

She shakes her head to confirm his suspicion, but he feels the small opening into her emotions snap fully shut again and she says nothing. "Do you wish to speak about it?" Another headshake, another grimace as she swallows and proceeds to glare at the bowl. He does his best to withhold a sigh. It seems she truly does not wish to speak, and it would do little good to force the issue. It is disappointing but not all that surprising he supposes. It is probably best if he leaves her be for now. "I will let you finish eating, I'm sure Cassandra will want to leave soon." He watches as she just nods silently in acknowledgement, but offers nothing more, so he carefully stands and walks away to finish the last of his own meal elsewhere.

He knows he cannot take her behavior personally, she has been under a great deal of strain recently, especially over the last day. He had hoped she might open up to him a little, but it is clear she isn't ready to do so. Perhaps, he will have better luck later, once their work is done. It is early morning after all, and she has never been much willing to speak with anyone at such hours.

However, the wall she is keeping over her emotions is becoming increasingly unsettling to him, and at first he isn't sure why. It is good that she has this skill, even if she is not actually aware of it and therefore has no conscious control over it. Why then is he so bothered by it?

He is nearly finished in his preparations for the day when he finally realizes it is simply because he has grown so accustomed to always knowing her emotional state, especially in the days since they'd left Haven and they had constantly been within such close proximity to each other. The people of this world were already all so hollow to him and she is the only one who has ever seemed truly real to him, an anchor for him that has kept him from simply becoming adrift in this unfamiliar and broken world. It leaves him feeling lost without what had been a near constant awareness of her mental state. He can still feel her presence, but it is not the same, he misses her whole presence.

Of course, with awareness, comes the ability to deal with the issue. It is best if he does not become so dependent on her this way. It is just another sign that he must be more mindful to keep a distance between them. Perhaps the current circumstances are for the best. If she is able to pull herself away from him, it will make it all the easier for him to hold himself back as well, and he must take advantage of the opportunity.

Once they are all ready to head out, he feels himself resolved in this new effort. He is calm and ready to face the enemies they will meet before long. He looks over to where the Herald is standing, consulting with Cassandra and a scout in low voices. She too seems ready. She is alert, back straight, determination clear in her posture. He is quick to push back the concern that rises up at the death and violence that she will have to face again this day. She will be fine, he need only be sure he has her back so that she does not become one of the victims.

 

***

 

As expected, the journey to the Crossroads is a long and grueling one. The closer they get to their destination, the greater the resistance they find. Templars and mages all seem intent on killing each other and anyone who would get in their way, leaving their party and the rest of the Inquisition's forces fighting on both fronts.

His worry for the Herald now seems unnecessary. The hesitation of the day before is gone now and she fights with the same sense of purpose she'd demonstrated in the Fade: killing with efficiency, and alternating between her use of magic and blades with increasing deftness.

When they finally reach the fighting nearest the Crossroads it is nearly chaos. Inquisition forces are already fighting hard to defend the area and the refugees who have sought sanctuary in the village. These defenders are nearly overrun when their party arrives and it seems the reinforcements are just in time.

He turns as he sees sudden movement from the Herald in his periphery. He feels her magic build as she swings her staff over her head dramatically and finally brings it down arching powerful branches of lightning out at a group of enemies about to overwhelm some of the villages defenders. Each branch of brilliant light hits its target perfectly, bringing the enemies all down at once. It is a technique they have not yet practiced, and yet she has just executed it flawlessly. It is surprising, but he cannot help but be proud, and a little impressed.

He gives a small nod when she turns towards him a moment later, and is gratified to see the small smile in response before they both return their attentions to the battle around them.

The battle wears on, both mages and Templars fighting equally as hard against the Inquisition as they do against each other. It is disheartening to see such division. And yet within their own group there is a cohesiveness he had not thought they would be capable of. After the previous days of fighting together, they have become a team in more than just name: each of them moving to defend or attack as needed, communicating needs and intentions through quick hand motions or short commands. Through it all, he is aware of how they are all consistently oriented around the Herald, ensuring that she is never undefended. It is reassuring to again realize that they are all just as determined to keep her safe as he is. Whatever else they may be, at least they will not be a hindrance or liability in this.

Eventually, the Inquisition's forces start making headway against their opposition until, finally, the fighting begins to taper off. A significant number of Templars and mages are able to retreat, but the area is now littered with the fallen of all sides. It is a grim scene, but everyone in their party remains standing, although certainly the worse for wear.

He automatically seeks out Lavellan amidst those also standing in the aftermath, taking in the circumstances. He spots her a short distance away with the Cassandra, talking to some of the other soldiers, likely getting an update on things. He, Varric, and Bryn soon join them as they receive directions to where Mother Giselle, and the corporal in charge can be found.

When the conversation is finished, Lavellan turns to all of them, "I guess I should go see Mother Giselle first then."

He can see she is exhausted. Like the rest of them, her skin and armor are streaked with dirt, smoke, and blood, but she otherwise seems in good spirits, despite the carnage that lies all around them.

He is about to stop her but Cassandra beats him to it, "We will, but I suggest you have Solas look at that arm first," she says firmly.

Apparently Lavellan had been completely oblivious to her injury. She looks at the long cut running down her arm, still dripping blood onto the ground, with a kind of bemused surprise. He waits for her to come closer so that he may proceed with the healing, but instead she prods at the injury, hissing at the sudden pain but continuing to explore the injury with her fingers anyway.

He steps in before she causes more injury to herself, removing the prodding fingers and lifting up the arm. She makes no protest as he does so, and watches with a relaxed fascination as he applies the healing magic, repairing all damage to the skin and tissue beneath it.

She thanks him when it is done, before checking if the others need any similar care. He has to admit he hadn't really taken note of the others' conditions once he'd confirmed they were all still standing. He is also a bit dismayed to realize she is the only one to receive any injury of great significance, despite all their efforts to protect her. He wants to lay blame: he should have done better, they all should have, they should have been able to prevent it. At the same time, he knows too well how battlefields work, there can be no guarantees. There is never any way to be prepared for every eventuality. It is a fact he hates and a reality he always does his best to combat, but he supposes it is unfair to blame anyone for her injury. There will likely be others, for all of them. Often one must even accept injury to prevent death, it was a sound tactical option in certain circumstances. He tells himself all of this, but in the end he still resolves to do better.

He sifts through these thoughts as they get cleaned up a little before heading into the village.

The tiny village itself is full of people, many injured; suffering looks much the same in this time as it had in his own. He can sense nothing from them of course, but their pain and hardship seem etched into their faces and can be heard in timbre of their voices. He looks over at Lavellan as she takes in the scene as well. The wall is still in place, making her as hard to read as any of them but he thinks he can see pain and sympathy in her eyes, even as she does her best to maintain her bearing among them.

She goes to meet the Chantry Mother while they remain, waiting to hear what news she will bring back. This meeting is the primary purpose that has brought them to the Hinterlands after all, and there is hope that it may lead to the opportunity they need in securing the help they require in order to completely seal The Breach.

They wait for several minutes, watching the conversation from a short distance away, though too far to hear what is said. Varric makes a few comments, trying to fill the silence, and the Seeker gives some reply, but he is not really paying attention.

Finally the Herald returns and Cassandra in particular looks at her expectantly, waiting to hear what the Revered Mother had to say.

"Mother Giselle will offer what help she can. She suggests we go to Val Royeaux and speak to the clerics directly. She has names of those we might approach first, who might be willing to hear our cause. It isn't a lot, but it seems to be our best chance at this point."

There seems to be a slight sense of disappointment among them, and he supposes he cannot blame them. The Chantry's position is a point of great frustration for them all and he feels they are at the core of many of the problems currently facing Thedas to begin with. It is of little surprise, in the end, that this meeting will not provide the easy solution they had hoped for, but it is still disappointing.

 

They will not return to Haven yet, however. The area is still highly unstable and many of those they were fighting that morning were able to get away and will certainly carry on with the conflict unless they are neutralized. They must deal with the problem quickly so the violence in the area does not continue to threaten so many innocent lives.

But that is a job to be started the next day. The rest of this day is spent assessing the situation and helping those they can. He gives most of his energy to the injured. There are a small number of mages who have not joined in the fighting and are there to assist in healing those they can, but there are not nearly enough for the sheer number of wounded. It is a number that is only increasing after the morning's fighting.

When Lavellan looks at him while they are discussing what each of them will do while in the village, he can already see the request in her eyes and he volunteers to aid in healing before she has to say anything. It is likely the best use of his abilities in any case, but seeing her appreciation for him taking it on makes the work that much more worthwhile in his eyes. He may not see any particular value in the people of this time, but that does not mean they deserve such pain, or that he cannot assist in easing it.

It is a long day however, and when they finally regroup at the end of it, they are all exhausted.

His own tiredness is eased however, when he realizes Lavellan's mental wall seems to have begun to fall. It is not a dramatic change, and sheer exhaustion seems to be muting much of what she may be feeling, but he can feel the difference nonetheless and it comforts him despite himself.

All is calm as they make their way back to the main Inquisition camp. They are all glad to sit down to eat at the end of the day but he does detect her guilt partway through the meal, before she expresses her concern over the refugees. Her mood rises again however, once she learns she will be able to bathe. It is a fact that he appreciates as well after the last couple days, though perhaps for her it will also be a somewhat symbolic cleansing after all the death she has had to face.

In truth, he is surprised with how well she has dealt with the circumstances. He can tell she continues to struggle internally, but on the outside she had been able to function well beyond his expectations. Of course, she has continued to do so since the first day, so perhaps it is more surprising that he continues to be surprised. Perhaps he ought to look closer at his perception of things. If this woman, who at first glance seems of no particular consequence, can so consistently astound him, there may be more that he is somehow missing, and if there holes in his own understanding then it may prove valuable that he fill them.

It does not take him all that long to bathe, and he does not linger, so he finds their area of camp empty when he returns. He takes a seat by the fire and lets himself drift into his own thoughts again.

Lavellan is the first one to return after him, though she must have taken her time, as she had been the first to leave. She seems to have done what she could to wring the water from her hair, but bits of it fall and threaten to cling to the soft skin of her face. Their eyes meet briefly as she enters the camp. She pulls her eyes away again quickly, so he returns his to the fire before him. It is a surprise when she actually sits beside him then. He glances her way, but her eyes remain fixed on the fire ahead.

She is still guarded but he can tell she is nervous, or uncertain, about something as she sits there silently for some moments.

Finally she speaks, "I'm sorry about this morning. I know I was a bit rude, I didn't mean to be, I just... I'm not very personable that early I guess." She sighs and pauses a moment, "And after recent events..."

She is apologizing for her behavior? He cannot see that she has anything to apologize for. It is he that should be apologizing. He thinks as he shifts uncomfortably beside her. He has invaded her dreams. Rather than simply trusting her abilities, he had found her and witnessed that which he had no right to. No matter how much he told himself it was only to see to her safety, he knows it was more selfish than that.

He only stops berating himself when he recognizes the increasing worry coming from her. He should respond to her, lest she think him offended.

"There is no need for your apology, _lethallan_ ," he says to her softly, turning to look at her, the firelight dancing across her profile. "You have been through much in a very short time and you are burdened with enormous responsibility, adapting to such circumstances is sure to be trying. It is to be expected that the strain would manifest somehow. You needn't worry for me, I was not offended."

He can feel her relax at his words, he can see it in the softening of her features. He wonders if perhaps it wouldn't be better to just tell her what he'd done, what he'd seen. Surely she would understand and forgive him and then he could help her come to terms with her recent experiences, help guide her through dreaming so that she might find peace rather than more distress. He decides and begins, "Perhaps it is I who should apologize to you."

She turns to look at him in surprise, "Why?"

He is about to speak again, but then he meets those clear and piercing eyes of hers that have always seemed to see right through him. What if she does not understand? What if she sees his actions as the breach in privacy they are and he loses the trust he can so clearly see in those eyes? No, he cannot.

"I should not have inquired about your night," he offers instead, "I realize that any dreams your recent experiences may have caused would likely be very personal and therefore not something you would wish to share casually. It was therefore inappropriate for me to pry."

It is almost what he'd meant to say, almost the apology it should be.

And she accepts it easily, "Is that all?" she asks with a smile and shake of her head. "I would have expected nothing less from you. After what we talked about regarding demons and emotions in the Fade the other day, it seems only natural that you would be concerned."

She is kind, but he knows it would not be the same if it were the actual truth. "Be that as it may," he frowns, looking back at the fire, disappointed in himself, "I hope you know that I would never ask you to reveal more than you would wish. I am always willing to listen if you wish to tell me, or help if you want it, but I also understand if you prefer to remain silent."

He promises himself, and her, that he will never take such liberties again.

He can feel her still looking at him, her feelings seem mixed but she is otherwise calm.

"Thank you," she says quietly, and he cannot help turning his gaze back to her. She quickly looks away though. She is clearly nervous because her hands are fidgeting while she stares at them. "I may want to tell you about it someday, but I'm not ready yet. Still it's nice to know I have someone I can talk to about it if I need to."

Her words confirm that he made the right choice in not telling her. She still trusts him, and though he knows he does not deserve any of it, he feels the desire to earn as much of it as he can. And what she wants now, someone she can talk to on such matters, that is not a difficult thing to promise.

And so it is with sincerity that he answers her, "Always."

It is not the first time he feels the urge to reach out to her, but it is much stronger this time. Something in him longs to hold her to him. It is almost uncontrollable, but then he feels her barriers begin to rise again, and as she mentally pulls herself back, so does he. No, he is her teacher, her friend, it is inappropriate. Not only that but the secrets he holds are a wall all their own, one that is unbreachable in his determination to do what must be done.

And yet, as she finally stands and wishes him good night, he cannot help feel some regret at the circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, almost didn't get this up on time (ish). Kept nodding off while editing then fell asleep right after. I think it's the heat making me sleepy at weird times. It's 4am right now but I've got a little energy back to get this up for you guys.
> 
> It's a bit shorter than usual, but I thought this segment worked best in a chapter on its own.
> 
> I hope you guys are doing well. Feel free to let me know what you think anytime, here or on tumblr (@mayonaka-no-tenshi), and as always, thanks for reading! You guys are awesome!


	9. Internal Struggles II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Chapters 25-26 in "Reality Dreaming"

Solas is eager to get to Val Royeaux and seek what help might be gotten through the Chantry clerics, but he also understands the need to try to get the area somewhat stabilized before they leave these people to fend for themselves. Even though there is still a good number of Inquisition soldiers in the area, many lives have been lost during the recent fighting and it is unlikely they can ensure the safety of the people in the area on their own.

No, at the very least, the main forces of both the mages and the Templars need to be eliminated as a threat. If the fighting can be reduced, and some of the tensions eased it might also aid them in gaining much needed good will among one or both of the groups that might make it easier in the end to enlist their aid.

And so they set out the next morning across the Hinterlands to begin the work. The days are long and filled with mostly travel and fighting; Templars, mages, demons, a steady stream of enemies that must be faced. Each evening finds them exhausted and quieter than in days past, yet the dwarf seems just as ready with fresh stories whenever he seems to think things have gotten to somber.

Overall, there is little he finds to be surprising as the days pass, except, of course, for her.

In many ways, she continues to exceed expectations as she faces the challenges with them and continues to fight with courage and determination. But this is not what is unusual, what is strange, is the way the Herald seems to take in the world around them while they travel across the landscape.

In the days since they left the Crossroads, her mental defenses have slowly begun to fall again, allowing him the awareness of her emotions he had previously become accustomed to, and as they travel he periodically feels strong waves of some kind of confusion. When he looks over at her, it is usually to see her staring at seemingly nothing of consequence, expression suggesting she is lost in thought or memory. When he asks if all is well, she jumps slightly, turning to him and assuring him she is fine.

He is not the only one to notice either, the child of the stone catches her at it a number of times and begins to tease her. She quickly begins to start hiding the more obvious signs of her preoccupation. She is unable to hide the fact that it continues to happen from him however. He can still feel the strange confusion coming off of her every time. It is not as strong after the first few times but it is distinct enough that it is unmistakable. Yet, she remains silent about it.

He finds himself quite curious but her actions have made it clear she does not wish to say anything on the matter, and it does not seem to denote any kind of danger, so there is no apparent justification to press her on the matter.

 

When they meet the horsemaster, they receive a new mount. It is a beautiful animal, friendly but clearly well trained. When the horse seems to show equal favor to him, Lavellan seems quite pleased and suggests he take the mount for his own. He hardly feels he is most deserving to receive the fine animal, the Seeker seems the more logical choice, but when the warrior offers no objection and accepts one of the other newly acquired mounts instead. He finally accepts, and Lavellan smiles. Seeing it, he realizes it has been too long since the last time he saw a truly genuine smile grace those lips. It pains him again to know how she has suffered in recent days, yet seeing her smiling again now, eases something in him as well.

That afternoon is spent taking care of several of the requests the horsemaster has made prerequisite to sending horses to the Inquisition. Clearing out a pack of demon controlled wolves is foremost of these tasks, yet another testament to the chaos that has been caused by the Breach.

Once the wolves are dealt with they decide to stop early that day, but rather than rest he and Bryn set about picking up the Herald's training again. Part of him feels Lavellan deserves a reprieve, but her weapons trainer emphasizes the importance of improving skills for the sake of survival and he cannot argue the point. Rest will not keep her safe, she still has much to learn and limited time; they must take advantage of what opportunities are at hand.

As Solas introduces her to new forms of magic now, he finds her to be somewhat more resistant to the tasks in a way she never was previously. He is unsure of the reason for her current attitude; perhaps it is simply further effects of the recent hardships. Whatever the cause, he will not allow her to create new excuses for why some techniques might be challenging for her. He knows her to be capable, he is certain of her aptitude for a wide variety of techniques. It is important that she does not impose limits upon herself that do not exist. Though it makes him uncomfortable, he admonishes her for this resistance.

Fortunately, his words have the desired effect. He can feel lingering doubt and frustration within her, but she is making the effort and fighting against the feelings. He has her continue practicing the staff technique to help her re-center herself as much as possible, otherwise, he supposes, it will simply take time.

 

The evenings are uneventful for the most part. Stories are a frequent occurrence. The dwarf seems to tell stories as if they are the breath in his very lungs and Solas is often amazed that there seems to be no end of them. The others also take turns to share various anecdotes and interesting experiences as well. He agrees to share some of what he has seen in the Fade, careful not to speak of anything the Seeker might take offense at. Solas is not so much of a storyteller, he thinks, but he cannot help but be aware of Lavellan's attention on him as he speaks. It is no more than she offers during any of their lessons or conversations, but he supposes such instances have been rare lately, so he enjoys these moments as he can, and in his mind speaks primarily for her benefit.

He sometimes tries to simply absorb himself in reading, rather than listen to some of the tales, and always if they decide to play cards, but on the occasions Lavellan agrees to speak, he gives his undivided attention, undeniably curious about her own experiences and background. Most of the stories are simple ones from a seemingly normal childhood. She seems to speak most of her brother whom she had a tendency to play tricks on at times. She feels some guilt now, but cannot seem to avoid the amusement some memories still provoke in her, as she unsuccessfully tries to hold back the laughter of such reminiscences.

The day Cassandra asks if she misses her clan though, that is when he realizes there is more to her past than she has ever hinted at before.

"... I do not think it is possible for me to ever truly return," he hears her say and there seems to be a strange resignation behind the words. "I left because I never really belonged there anyway," she continues, "I was never what any of them wanted me to be, and though they may not have said anything or even realized it themselves I was always an outsider. I didn't trust any of them with who I was, except maybe my brother. My brother was the only one I was at all close to. Eventually though he found a partner and began a family and as his life took a path far removed from my own, he became just as distant."

He feels the sadness in her words, though it has a dulled quality to it, indicating it is an old feeling she has borne for some time.

"Maybe someday I will meet them again, but I have never been able to call them 'home', and that is not likely to change," she concludes giving a sigh heavy with unspoken feelings, making it is clear to him there is much she continues to conceal. He cannot deny his curiosity, wondering what has caused her such sorrow, how it was her own kin made her feel this way. Clearly it is a weight on her, but none of them have any right to the whole of the story and so silence stretches out for several moments following her admission.

He feels her mood begin to shift though, there is still some sadness but it lightens significantly as a warm appreciation rises above it. "But I have you guys now," she says smiling up at them, "despite all the craziness we are facing, you have supported me more than my entire family put together and I can only be incredibly grateful for that. We all have pain in our past and that's why we are the ones who are strong enough to be in this position. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I don't know where home is, but I feel like I'm in a position where I can make a difference and do something worthwhile. For now that's enough."

The words strike him and he repeats them in his own mind, wondering at the woman sitting across the fire. She clearly mourns much lost to her, a life and family that was never what it should have been that has left her lost in a place she was never meant to be, and yet it seems she believes she has ultimately gained from her circumstances. Her words provoke a number of questions and unfamiliar thoughts he is not sure he is ready to deal with. The one thing he does know, is she is a marvel in her ability to cause such reactions in him so consistently. In this world he finds himself in, after all his own losses, she is simultaneously his anchor and the storm that casts him adrift. It is a disturbing realization and he fears even considering where it may lead.

***

He is pleased when they finally find one of the artifacts. Having them brought back to power will be useful in a variety of ways, though for now simply stabilizing the Veil is the priority. There are too many rifts as it is and the Veil is so shaken, new tears could form all too easily.

He can tell Lavellan is quite interested in the items, she studies the first with keen focus. However, even with her sensitivity, he is confident she will not be able to determine the full significance of the object nor its connection to him. Still, it is good she will be able to sense them too, making it easier to locate as many as possible throughout the course of their journeys.

 

There are a few other interesting discoveries they make in the area. The shards are a good find though he cannot help share the Herald's curiosity as to why they had not been claimed yet, since the strange skulls clearly set up to find them are quite functional.

He posits that a mage is required though he considers the possibility it may be even more specific than that. Perhaps only an elven mage would be able to detect the objects. It may even be the unique magical signature they both possess that is required, though such a specific limitation is highly unlikely. Whatever the case, there is no way to adequately test any of these possibilities, and accepts it as simple good fortune that they are able to claim the items before anyone else.

Much is accomplished during the weeks they travel across the area, and though there is still much to be done to return full stability to the area, the difference he can see upon their return to the crossroads is dramatic. The people seem to be in brighter spirits. There are still some shortages of supplies but circumstances are continuing to improve.

He can also feel a sense of satisfaction from Lavellan. She is clearly relieved to see that their efforts have resulted in such obvious improvement. At the same time, she also seems tired. Physically she seems well, but the events of the last weeks have been heavy on her spirit. He hopes the return journey to Haven will have few difficulties, she deserves some rest and time to recover. He knows now that she can handle the trials that will inevitably face her, but he can still hope for her to have to face as few as possible. It is a foolish thing to wish for perhaps, but for now he sees no harm in the indulgence.

***

In the end, the journey does prove to be an easy one. They keep up a good pace and even taking a slightly different path on the way back they do not run into as many rifts as he'd feared. The speed of their travel does not allow for much in the way of training and they all finish the days exhausted from riding, so conversation is kept fairly minimal.

The closer they get to Haven, the more everyone seems to relax. Lavellan is the most obvious in this, but he can see it in the others as well. They are all eager to get back and it is easy to share the sentiment. A break might do them all good before travelling on to the capital of Orlais.

When they finally entered the town to be greeted by the Inquisition's spymaster, the news of a hot bath and food have Lavellan's mood markedly improved, even beyond her obvious gladness at just being back, and he has to admit that he too will appreciate indulging in such luxuries.

At the gate, the majority of their group splits off to go their separate ways. He is surprised when Lavellan turns down the dwarf's invitation to the tavern but supposes she might be seeking respite after the long and trying weeks behind them. Whatever the case, he feels some gladness to have a few moments alone with her, something they have not had since before the Hinterlands.

"It's going to feel so good to have a hot bath and sleep on a proper mattress. My back doesn't really appreciate laying on the hard ground night after night," she says as they begin the walk up the hill towards their cabins.

He is surprised by her words though, she had not complained during their travels and he had assumed it was a circumstance she was well used to, "Really? I had thought, as one of the Dalish you would be accustomed to such conditions."

He can feel the tension that rises at his question, a minute sense of panic held back with deliberate control before she answers him, "The Dalish don't always sleep on the ground, they have aravels with bedding more forgiving than the ground and free of random rocks. I can certainly tolerate sleeping on the ground but if given the choice, I'll take a real mattress any day."

Her tone remains fairly neutral but behind it he feels an edge to her words. However, his curiosity is more concerned with her choice of words, due to his continued confusion regarding her and how different she seems from others of her kind he'd previously encountered, "'They'? not 'we'?' Do you not truly consider yourself to be one of them?"

Her reaction is stronger this time but still carefully controlled. The edge in her voice is obvious now however, "I thought I made it pretty clear already that I feel pretty separate from those I was raised among. Is it so strange I would speak of them in such a way? No, I suppose I don't really see myself as one of them, is there a problem with that?" 

She gives him a challenging look with her question and the annoyance is clear now. He takes in what she's just said, remembering what she had related to them about her clan and family before and realizes he has probably not approached the topic in an appropriate way, thoughtlessly letting his curiosity get ahead of him. He is a bit taken aback by her reaction, it is so rare for her to become truly aggravated or annoyed, but he cannot blame her for her reaction. He only wants to understand her better, but it is clear he has gone about it badly.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to upset you," he says in apology, hoping to clear up his intentions, "It is just that you are so unique, I seek to understand you better, I do not mean to pry into what may be personal and uncomfortable topics for you."

She relaxes but there still seems to be a bit of tension remaining as she lets out an audible sigh, "It's alright, I don't mind answering your questions, but I would appreciate it if you didn't make them sound quite so much like you're interrogating me."

For a moment he feels defensive and wants to argue, but another moments review over his approach reveals that she is right; his manner of questioning certainly sounded more accusatory than merely curious. Though she is different, she has done nothing that could justify his lack of consideration. She deserves a better apology. "Of course, I apologize. I will approach such topics with greater consideration in the future," it isn't quite what he'd intended but she seems to accept the sentiment. Perhaps he can find another way to make it up to her.

"I guess I'll say goodnight then," she tells him.

At her words he looks over to where her glance falls to see they have reached his cabin already. Realizing the imminence of their parting he realizes he isn't ready to let her go just yet , "Before you go, do you intend to seek a magic lesson tomorrow? It has been a few days, I wondered if you would wish to continue now that we have returned to Haven." He manages to keep his tone neutral, but he finds himself hoping for an affirmative answer.

"Actually, I have no idea," she seems slightly surprised by the question and it becomes clear she hasn't considered such plans yet. "I guess it really depends on what they have to say tomorrow morning. I'll probably have some time free at least but I hadn't really thought what I might do. I could come by for a lesson, or even just to talk, I still have a few questions about some of the reading I've done. Or did you want the day to yourself? I totally understand if you want to have that time for your own."

He feels a rise in enthusiasm from her, which falters into nervousness as she speaks and it reassures him as likely being caused by a mutual wish to spend time together. He knows he really shouldn't be so glad of it, but he cannot seem to wish otherwise. "You are welcome at any time. If you find yourself with the time and inclination I would enjoy your company, perhaps I may even teach you a new spell."

"Something new? Well, I suppose I will have to strongly consider it then," she says with a smile that brightens her whole face. "Have a good night Solas, perhaps I'll see you tomorrow."

"Rest well," he offers in return with a nod, catching her eye one last time before turning and heading back to his cabin.

He feels her familiar presence fade slowly into emptiness as she too retreats to her own accommodation. He does not remember her absence ever being this noticeable before, but he feels the loss keenly now. He remembers his resolve of a few weeks previous, that he should not become so attached to the sensation of her presence and decides he should put it out of his mind. But in the stillness and peace of his cabin, as he bathes, letting the long days of travel be washed away in the warm water, he cannot seem to think of anything else. While he eats, he attempts to lose himself in a book but finds himself rereading the same paragraph several times and still not having any idea what it said.

He's quite frustrated with himself at this point. He really should have better control. Perhaps he is simply tired from the journey, he reasons and decides sleep may be the best options.

Perhaps some time in the Fade would help him regain proper perspective.

***

The next morning, he awakes hardly feeling better than he had the previous night.

Having spent so much time in Haven already, meant that he had explored many of the memories related to the place. There might be more but they are likely buried deep in the Fade and he had not had the focus necessary to search for them. He had visited Wisdom briefly but she had clearly sensed something of the struggle in him and he'd had no desire to explain the situation. It wouldn't matter once he managed to master himself again, he was sure he'd be able to do so in time and he'd rather just take care of it and forget about his lapse, there was no reason to share the details of his struggle with his friend.

He'd then proceeded to try losing himself in memories, hoping to remind himself about what he is trying to accomplish, why it matters so much that he succeed, that he fight to reclaim what has been lost. He visited memories of places he had loved, places unlike any that might even be imagined now. He remembers so many of the people he'd known. There may have been corruption in places, but there were many good people too, people who did not deserve the fate he'd condemned them too.

This worked at first, but as he wandered through the halls of memory he thought about what Lavellan might think of this world. He thought of what places he might most like to show her, tried to guess what she might be most interested in. He especially liked imagining how she would look in these settings: what good a spirit such as hers might have given to this society, and how brightly she would shine amongst its people.

He resisted manifesting her image within these memories, to actually see what it might look like, but the temptation was incredibly strong and feeling like he was fighting a losing battle is what finally brought him back into wakefulness.

And so he finds himself lying there even more frustrated with himself.

The truth is that he still barely knows this woman. Her background is mostly a mystery and he has struggled to understand her motivations and actions since her initial awakening after the conclave. He still has not been able to determine why he is able to sense her so well and she him. These mysteries should be reasons for caution, but instead they seem to only draw him in.

Since his mind seems so determinedly fixated, he decides to deal with the problem in a different way. There is a high probability she will visit him at some point today. He had promised to teach her a new spell so that is what he will prepare to do. He will teach her something a little different, something he feels confident she will be able to learn quickly and find useful right away.

He already has all the necessary materials for the actual lesson, but he does need to go out into the village anyway, for some errands, so he thinks perhaps it will be appropriate to acquire a small gift as well. It will be nothing of significance, just something simple and practical; a nice gesture that could not be construed as anything more.

***

Once the morning's errands are completed, he finds he is able to get some reading done and gratefully absorbs himself in the words of the tome before him. Even so, he easily notices her approach the moment she has gotten close enough, and simply waits silently, tracking her progress as she makes her way ever closer. He resists the temptation to wait at the door to meet her, instead remaining seated and waiting until she has started to knock before inviting her to enter.

She seems happy from the first moment, but he still feels some hidden tension in her release as she steps in and greets him with a smile, "Good afternoon, Solas."

"Greetings, it seems you are in a good mood," he smiles in spite of himself, unable to ignore how glad he is to see her, even though it has been less than a day since they parted.

The brightening of her own smile in response causes things inside him to clench in a surprisingly pleasant way.

"Well, today has had its ups and downs but I'm feeling better now. By the way, I'm afraid we don't get to stay in Haven for long, we're leaving again tomorrow morning for Val Royeaux. You'll come with us won't you?" she asks.

He feels the sudden unease that accompanies her question and he finds the sentiment warming, but of course there is no question of his accompanying her, he is determined to see this through. His presence may not be strictly necessary on this particular journey, but he will not leave things to chance when he has the option of being there, even if he were not so interested in remaining near the woman before him.

"Of course, I will accompany you. It is likely for the best that we depart soon, the journey will take some time and the sooner we can address the clerics the better. I'm sure we are all eager to do whatever is necessary to see the Breach closed. I also suspect that we may find a number of rifts along the way," he says, expressing only the reasons that _should_ be most important to him right now.

"You're probably right," she answers, "who knows how widespread the rifts are and just getting those closed could earn us some much needed good will and support. I'm not eager to face the clerics but it needs to be done and waiting around here isn't going to make it any easier, better to go and get it done."

He feels some unease in her at this. It is understandable that she would be nervous. Despite all that has happened, she is still quite new to her role.

"Yes, simply waiting offers little advantage in this case," he assures her but knows there is not much he might say that would truly ease her worries. Instead he decides it may be best to simply move on to the lesson he has planned for her, "Would you care to learn a new magical technique today? The weather is less than ideal for practicing outside but I thought we might try something that is safe enough to be performed indoors."

"Ok, what kind of magic is it that I won't be at risk for hurting anyone or damaging anything?"

Her words are self-deprecating but the tone behind them is playful and belies a distinct curiosity beneath.

"Thus far we have focused on magic with the purpose of using it in battle, either for offense or defense," he begins before going on to explain the type of spell he wishes to teach her and he can feel her eagerness rise as he speaks about the practical uses of fire and cold magic to control the temperature of objects.

"That sounds marvelous and so, so useful, let's do it," she exclaims once he's finished.

And it is this, he supposes, that has him most caught by her. It may have been his ability to sense her as he could his own people and her increasing ability to do the same that initially caught his focus, but this deep curiosity and eagerness to learn everything he is willing to impart is what is truly amazing about her. He thinks that even if he felt as little from her as any of the others, this trait may still have won him over eventually. It is still something that sets her apart from any he has encountered in this world, and certainly among her people. Though he has known her such a short time, and so much mystery still remains, he cannot help but be glad to have her here. It is a selfish and foolish feeling and he knows it can only lead to pain in the end, but for these moments he will cling to what peace they may offer.

The lesson is a pleasant one for both of them. He instructs her how to affect the temperature of the stone and she learns quickly, taking each adjustment to the technique and applying it nearly flawlessly. She will still need to practice in order to finesse the skills but she gets the basics down quickly and he cannot help the glow of pride he feels in her accomplishment.

He finally rises and goes to the bookshelf to retrieve the small bag he'd set there earlier. He suddenly feels a rush of nerves as he takes the item in hand. It is meant to serve as a practical item, but he could have chosen another material that would have served just as well. He had looked over several samples the smith had on hand, any of which would have fulfilled this purpose, but the color and sheen of the silverite had stood out among the rest as it reminded him somewhat of her eyes and he had chosen it without another thought. It did not truly mean anything as a gift, yet he could not help but worry over her reaction to receiving it.

Still, with the pouch in hand he turns back toward her and returns to the table where she is still seated, "Here, perhaps you will find this useful." He hands her the small bag and watches as she carefully opens it and slides the small piece of metal into her other hand.

"It is silverite," he explains. He sees her studying the gift and turning it over in her hand but for some reason he is unable to determine what she may be feeling at this moment. "It is lightweight but able to conduct and withstand even extreme temperatures, I hope you find it useful."

She remains silent, still looking at the softly shining object in her hand, and he feels the tension in him rise. Perhaps it was a stupid idea after all and he should offer to replace it with something more acceptable.

But then she does finally speak, looking up to meet his eyes beaming one of the most beautiful smiles he has seen from her yet, "Thank you, it's wonderful, I'm sure I'll find many uses for it." She looks down again and laughs as a wave of happiness washes over him from her, triggering a similar feeling within himself. "You know, I never thought I would be so happy to receive a rock as a present."

He cannot even begin to describe the feeling in him as her eyes return to his, "Thank you, Solas." And something in those words almost causes him to physically shiver though he manages to repress the impulse.

He is unable to speak for some moments, overwhelmed as he is by his own emotions, and can only watch as she finally places the stone back into the bag with those beautifully delicate fingers.

He swallows and manages to find his voice again, "Just remember to continue to use caution as you practice, I would not wish you to burn yourself on accident, and for the time being only use this or similar materials for practice. This magic can be applied to other materials but many factors must be taken into consideration when doing so and I would prefer to practice those in future lessons."

He is surprised how evenly it comes out

"I understand," she answers, nodding, before looking towards the window. He feels a soft shadow of regret from her now as she looks out at the world beyond the small pane. "Well, I think perhaps I should go. I'm sure we'll be leaving early, I think I'd like to just relax this evening while I have the chance."

That's right, they will be on the road again the next day, he remembers. It is too bad she will not be able to enjoy the peace of Haven for longer, but the journey is important and a part of him is glad to know he will be able to remain near enough to always keep her in his senses during it.

Still it is with some sorrow that he watches her stand and prepare to go, "Have a good evening Solas, I'll see you in the morning I guess."

"Yes, I shall see you then. I wish you a pleasant evening as well." He opens the door for her and watches as she walks into the cold air, the fog of her breath rising in a thin cloud before her, an enchanting figure amidst the softly drifting snowflakes in the quickly dimming light.

She gives him a wave and heads up the hill. He watches her retreating figure and continues to stand there looking out at the emptiness that remains well after she is out of site, following her progress with other senses until their reach is also exceeded.

He finally goes back inside, closing the door with a sigh. He is such a fool, he thinks and wonders how he has allowed it to get to this point, how she has managed to be able to affect him dramatically. Clearly, it is going to be more difficult than he anticipated to manage his increasingly confusing feelings regarding the Herald. He would have to keep trying though, there was no other option.

Perhaps it is not such a good idea for him to accompany her to Val Royeaux, perhaps some distance would be good for him.

But no, he will not leave this to chance. He must see this through. Besides, she may continue to need his assistance. There is still much for her to learn and he must assist her in any way he can, he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and my sincere thanks for reading! I hope this chapter finds you well!
> 
> I really want to get Solas' pov caught up closer to where I am in the main story so I'm going to try to focus on this a little more for now. As a result I'll probably update this one a little more often for a while but I'm hopeful I can get things caught up relatively quickly.
> 
> As always, feel free to let me know what you think of the chapter or come say hi on tumblr (@mayonaka-no-tenshi).
> 
> Have a great Day!!


	10. Falling by Increments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Chapters 27 and 28 of "Reality Dreaming"

The start of the journey to Val Royeaux is uneventful. They probably all could have done with a few more days rest in Haven but no one complains as they find themselves back on the road.

The days of travel cross country fall into a familiar pattern. They run into rifts on a regular basis as they travel and stop each evening by sunset. The journey will be long so it seems best to keep a steady pace that they can maintain for the duration, without exhausting themselves or their mounts. Once camp is set, Lavellan spends time training each night with both Bryn and himself.

He feels she has mastered enough magic for the fights they are currently finding themselves in, and decides he can finally expand her skills to more practical applications and she does not disappoint in her continued improvement, despite the relatively short time they spend on lessons while on the road.

In anticipation of the longer, and hopefully less exciting journey, everyone has brought other materials to keep them occupied. Solas himself has brought a few books, as has Lavellan. On quieter nights, he sees her pull out some kind of journal as well. He has not seen her write in it before, but he sees there are many pages already filled. He supposes she usually writes after they have all gone to bed. Even now, if anyone approaches or engages her in conversation while she has it out, she quickly and wordlessly slips the book back into the bag at her side. He does not doubt it is a collection of her private thoughts regarding what she has experienced over the last few weeks, of which she must have many. She clearly wishes to keep it private and understandably so, so he decides to begin teaching her wards. It will be good practice for her to help him set up wards around the camp, but he can also teach her some which will provide her with the means to protect her own privacy as well.

Despite his own curiosity he understands well the desire for privacy and he has frequently seen that she values it highly, he can think of no better gift than to help her to protect the personal items she would seek to keep away from prying eyes. Not that he is actively seeking to give her a gift, it is only that he sees she has a practical need and should appreciate skills that she can find uses for right away.

The first several days pass unremarkably. He finds that having Lavellan's presence to be a constant once again has at least reduced his level of distraction regarding her. It is far from ideal, but at least he is able to concentrate on other matters once again. It is easier with the others around as well, they serve as a reminder to maintain propriety in his behavior towards her.

One evening, however, she lingers after the others have all retired and he is preparing to start the first watch. He suggests she retire as well but she does not move. She is keeping her emotions close but he has a sense of some uneasiness in her.

He watches her in silence as she eventually rises and approaches him, stopping and sitting only a short distance away. She is not looking directly at him but takes a slow breath before finally speaking, "I wanted to talk to you again about spirits."

He waits to see if she will say more, uncertain of her intentions, as the sense of uneasiness seems only to have grown. "Of course, I am happy to offer whatever insight I can on the subject," he finally responds when she remains silent.

"I met a spirit."

Her words are fast, she still will not meet his eyes, and there is that tension in her that still remains, which he cannot guess the source of. Perhaps she is referring to her experience several weeks before, and the two demons she confronted. That was both a trying experience and one she was reluctant to talk about, which might account for her current anxiety.

"I see. And I take it you found the experience upsetting?" he speaks carefully, not wanting to upset her further.

"Oh no, It's been amazing," her eyes finally meet his and they are bright, showing now an excitement that was hiding just beneath the nervousness.

This is certainly not the response he was expecting and she must recognize his confusion because she is quick to explain a moment later, "I'm sorry, I was just nervous to talk about it. I guess I just don't usually like to talk about my dreams, they just feel ... private I guess, so I just felt a little awkward bringing it up."

"Ah, I understand," and it becomes fully clear to him; her wish for privacy is something he has become increasingly aware of in recent weeks. "I would not wish you to tell me anything you are not comfortable with, but I would be very interested to hear more about any experiences with this spirit you would care to share. Can you tell me what sort of spirit it is you encountered?"

The stunning smile she gives him then is only matched by her next words, "I met Creativity. Well, actually I met a wisp first and then the wisp introduced me to Creativity. I think Creativity is actually very shy and would not have approached otherwise."

Hearing this news hits him with a sudden excitement he can barely contain, she has made friends with spirits, on her own and seemingly without fear, it is more than he could have ever hoped. He does his best to contain this excitement however, keeping his tone even, "So you met a wisp _and_ a spirit of creativity, it seems you have been quite fortunate indeed. I would enjoy hearing whatever you can tell me about them."

She goes on to explain how she met both of her new companions. He gathers she'd met the wisp while in the Hinterlands but the subsequently difficult circumstances that followed, likely paired with her strong sense of privacy, kept her from speaking of the meeting sooner, and he cannot fault her for this.

He listens raptly as she goes on to tell him more of her interactions with her new friends. He finds he cannot take his eyes off her and he relishes the excitement and joy that flows through her aura like some beacon calling forth similar emotions in him. It isn't long before he begins to ask her questions. She answers as best she can and he quickly poses new ones until she finally stops with a laugh, "You realize, I've only known this spirit for less than a week, right? We are still just getting acquainted."

Her comment brings him back to himself and he is slightly embarrassed at having gotten so carried away, "Yes, of course I apologize if I am getting carried away. I simply do not often get to speak to someone who has had such peaceable interactions with spirits. As you suspected, spirits of creativity are extremely shy and rarely seek to interact with anyone. It is not surprising that you would instead be introduced through a mutual acquaintance. Still, that you have been privileged to make the acquaintance of such a spirit is wondrous."

Once he is done speaking he realizes that his words had run away from him again but as he meets her eyes, she seems to mirror his own excitement, and her smile remains bright.

"I guess I should have expected this kind of reaction, I know how much you love the Fade and spirits," she says, everything about her glowing to his perceptions. She pauses though and also seems to be trying to rein herself in. "Are spirits of creativity very rare?" she finally asks

He does his best to focus again. That she has had these experiences is remarkable and he wants to offer whatever knowledge he can to aid her in any further encounters.

They remain there, talking for hours. She is unable to answer many of his questions yet, so he offers advice and answers her many questions instead. He tells her about some of his own interactions with various spirits and what she can expect from some of the more common ones.

By the end Lyara is clearly fighting off sleep and he suggests she wake Cassandra to take over the watch. She is reluctant at first but after another large yawn agrees. He shares that reluctance. He does not wish this moment to end, having her so close, aura bright, sharing thoughts on a subject he never thought to be able to speak so freely of again.

She is so close, and so real, if he just reached out he could...

But she stands then, stretching her arms over her head and yawning.

He stands as well, sorrow and gratefulness warring in him at the lost moment. He moves towards his tent, attempting to clear his head and slow his pulse a bit with her out of his immediate view. Before he goes inside he turns back again, unable to resist, taking in her shadowed form as the light of the fire dances across it like hands caressing every inch of her. "Dream well," he says, smiling, breath catching when she turns back to meet his eyes one more time.

"You too," she offers in return, matching his smile.

He turns then to enter his own tent.

Once inside he quickly prepares for sleep, pointedly not thinking too hard about the last few hours, just feeling. For now, just this moment, he wants to hold onto these feelings. He had never thought to feel such hope and warmth again, much less the intensity of those last few moments. He knows it cannot matter, it can mean nothing when there is so much else he must devote himself to.

Tomorrow, he can try to set it aside, but for tonight, just for a few more moments, he wants to imagine this could be real.

 

***

 

Once they reach the Imperial Highway things are somewhat different. More nights are spent in small cramped rooms at inns than in tents. The accommodations leave much to be desired, but are at least dry and offer some basic amenities.

The people they encounter seem wary of them, though are generally respectful. Still, he hears a number of people in the villages direct comments of 'rabbit' and 'knife-ear' towards him and Lavellan. He feels pricks of annoyance from her when it is clear she hears the epithets, but she does an admirable job of simply ignoring them, not even turning her head to acknowledge someone has spoken.

They do earn some good will by closing rifts and clearing out demons that have been causing the locals difficulty. This leads to runners from other villages meeting them on the road to request help in closing rifts somewhat off the path.

Though the journey does pass smoothly for the most part, there is one particular instance of trouble they run into. They encounter a moderate group of travellers who seem to be stuck along the road, cart damaged, and asking for assistance. Their party dismounts and goes to look at the damage and tend to any members who are injured or unwell. A moment later there is a knife pulled on him, but before he has any chance to react, the sounds of a fight a short distance away causes the would-be attacker to look away and Solas freezes the man without hesitation.

The whole incident is over in seconds. It turns out Bryn and Lavellan had both been suspicious of the situation and were ready for these bandits the moment they made a move, giving their party the opportunity to react quickly and decisively enough to actually catch the bandits by surprise and quickly overwhelm them with greater skill. Like himself, Cassandra and Varric had been able to take advantage of their opponents sudden distraction at the unexpected commotion caused by the two women's immediate reactions.

The bandits had almost no chance against their significantly more skilled group in any case, but he had to give them credit for such a convincing lure. He had not noticed anything that suggested they were not what they claimed. He is not truly surprised Bryn was able to catch what the others did not, not with her background, but that Lavellan had as well is admittedly impressive.

When she further demonstrates her powers of observation when some of the inns they stay at try to give them second rate rooms, claiming them to be the 'best available' and charging accordingly. Somehow she realizes what's going on and alerts Cassandra, who in turn wastes no time in expressing her displeasure and getting them better rooms with a discount.

Despite the conditions they travel under making it easier to maintain some distance between them, he finds his admiration for Lavellan growing. He tells himself it is fine to admire her, she is an admirable woman, but that does not require him to do anything about the fact. Such admiration requires no action on his part, and she seems content lately to keep distance between them as well. There is some pain as he resigns himself to this reality but accepts it as being for the best.

At least he is now able to focus on his own studies and pursuits. In the Fade he speaks comfortably with Wisdom on a regular basis, telling her of the events they face and is careful not to dwell much on the Herald.

 

As they finally approach the Waking Sea, he can feel her levels of anxiety rise. It is understandable he supposes, not only will she soon face the Chantry, she has likely never been in such a large city, and she will certainly be faced with many who will look down on her for both her ears and the staff at her back. The staff at least need not be carried with her at all times, but there will be no escape from the ears. Her hair, though growing, is still too short to cover them sufficiently. He only hopes her stoicism in the villages will carry over to the grand city.

Their arrival in Val Royeaux is unremarkable, though they clearly draw attention from it's citizens. They are all glad to arrive at their accommodations and Lavellan is clearly happy to have a proper bath again, always one of her favorite indulgences it seems, for she never passes up the opportunity, especially if hot water is available. They are even able to attain individual rooms for each of them. He is most grateful for this, it has been too long since he could have significant time to himself without disturbance. He notices the Herald too seems pleased with the arrangement.

They gather for dinner and spend the evening preparing for the meeting with the clerics the next day. He is eager to see this through, hopeful that real progress towards rectifying one of his many significant mistakes will be made. However, he notices that Lavellan seems quite distracted throughout the discussion. He knows she is equally concerned with closing the Breach so he is unable to understand what may be behind it.

As they leave to return to their rooms he sees Cassandra pull her aside and voice her concerns on the same matter, he was clearly not the only one to notice then. The temptation to hang back and listen to what they are saying is strong, but he resists and continues towards his room.

It is difficult for him to accept sometimes, but he knows the others are also greatly concerned about both Lavellan and closing the Breach, and they have all shown great commitment to the tasks laid before them. He must try to put more trust in them, he supposes. She trusts them after all and she clearly does not base her judgments off the opinions of others, but seeks to find as much information as she can, and make her own determination. He has seen the proof of this when despite a world of people around her saying spirits are dangerous, she has opened herself up to understanding them and even befriending one. He also knows she is not one to be overly trusting of people in general, there are many circumstances in which she has clearly demonstrated mistrust and suspicion; the recent incident with the bandits a clear example. He must then presume she has some insight, which gives her certainty in the integrity of the rest of their party.

 

It takes him a while to fall asleep that night, as he lays in the bed provided, contemplating the circumstances he has found himself in and the people around him. From the moment he had seen her awake a few hours after he had given her up for dead, Lavellan has been more than he'd expected, and each day only reinforces that reality. Yet through her he is beginning to see there may be more to the others than he'd previously believed as well.

It is not a pleasant thing to contemplate. The implications are significant, and yet they can ultimately change nothing. He has a duty and it is not something to be forsaken lightly. The fate of an entire people rests on him. How can he willingly turn his back on them, on the possibility of returning to them something that he had wrongly taken from them to begin with? However well intentioned his actions had been, the results are unforgivable and he is obligated to do what he can to repair the damage. It is to such an end he must devote himself utterly.

At some point he slips into the Fade to wander and continue these ruminations, their weight upon him only seeming to increase.

 

***

 

The next morning it is obvious everyone is on edge in anticipation of meeting with the clerics, especially in light of the rumors that the Templars are also in the city and no one seems sure what they might intend.

In typical fashion Varric keeps up some steady banter and jokes to ease the tension. He is somewhat surprised when the Herald also joins in, though her own tension is also high. Yet behind her unease, there is a relaxed quality to her behavior, and her and the dwarf's efforts do seem to be effective. He even sees a grin from the frequently stoic Seeker, and he must admit he is not unaffected either. He had woken still weighed down by the contemplations of a long night, yet somehow, seeing her smiling and playful amidst her own worry relieves him in some way.

 

As they finally head out towards the market, they meet an agent who informs them the Templars are also waiting for them. He would like to take this as a hopeful sign, an opportunity to enlist this group's aid without further delay, but somehow, the atmosphere in the market as they draw near belies a mood that seems less than likely to lean to their favor.

They make their way through the crowd and though he is alert for any sign of trouble and maintains awareness of the conditions around them, he takes special note of the Herald herself. She is following closely behind Cassandra and he can sense she is nervous and uncertain but there is also that powerful determination he has often seen come out whenever she is faced with clear adversity. It is evident in her posture and expression as well. He sees her standing tall and strong, her attention focused on their goal. He sees in her, someone who could lead.

She has come a long way in a few months, and for all the times she has surprised him, he is somehow unsurprised to see her in this light.

He continues to remain aware of her every reaction as they listen to the Reverend Mother condemning Lavellan and the Inquisition. When he hears her voice ring out in reply, a sense of pride fills him with every word.

Moments later, when the Templars join the clerics on the platform, he notices her bracing herself, but before he can consider possible explanations, he sees a Templar strike the Revered Mother, immediately followed by such an outpouring of rage from Lyara he almost fears she might in fact burst into flame. He has never felt such a reaction from her before, and without thinking reaches out to put a hand on her arm, hoping to steady her emotions.

He soon realizes it likely was not necessary for him to do so, he can feel now that the anger is being very carefully controlled, though it still burns fiercely and adds considerable heat to her next words. The fire follows her too as she and Cassandra follow the Lord Seeker back towards where the rest of the Templars wait.

The rest of them keep some distance but remain close as the confrontation plays out. The sense of pride returns as he watches Lavellan face the Templars and plead for their help, all but ignoring the Lord Seeker who seems utterly determined to dismiss anything she or Cassandra says. It is a good strategy, and a few Templars seem to be listening, but it seems it will not be enough, for in the end the contingent and its defiant leader march out of the bazaar without further ceremony.

They are all disappointed with the outcome of the morning. Though anger still seems most prominent in Lavellan, the intensity has dulled to a mere ember of what it was, but the aggravation is still quite present.

The rest of the market square soon quiets as it empties considerably in the aftermath. People are confused by the Templars sudden declarations and departure, and no one is sure what to do next. Lavellan goes to talk with the clerics again, but in the end it is apparent no help will come from that quarter.

With the arrival of a strange message delivered via arrow, Cassandra defers to the Herald who begins to take charge in truth, deciding how they will proceed. Though surprise and uncertainty are present at the unexpected authority placed on her, she is quick to give out instructions and they are all followed without question.

He can tell she does not feel ready or worthy of such responsibility, but he can think of no better choice for the role in this circumstance. If someone must take charge, he would certainly choose her above any of the others.

 

They spend the day gathering information, doing what they can to earn support for the Inquisition, and finding the clues indicated by the strange message writer. He thinks the rest of the day is likely to be uneventful until the meeting time indicated by the gathered clues, but it turns out he is wrong.

On their way out of the market they meet the leader of the mage rebellion. Cassandra especially seems a bit startled by the encounter, but Lavellan seems to take it in stride, remaining quite calm and focused as they listen to what the Grand Enchanter has to say. He supposes that after the morning's confrontation, this must seem far less concerning. Still, he might have had more misgivings as to her approach towards both the Grand Enchanter and the unusual message if it were not for the fact that, despite her lack of obvious concern, she does suggest reasoned arguments and precautions in the actions they will take.

When they do finally get back to the inn they are met with yet another message, this time an invitation for Lavellan to attend some sort of gathering held by a noble mage that seems to be of some importance. The three women seem most concerned about the matter of appearances and whether the Herald should be wearing a dress to the event, but once he is able to look over the invitation he finds himself more troubled by the fact Lavellan is clearly the only one invited to the event. Perhaps he can talk to Cassandra about seeing that she has an escort.

He is distracted from these thoughts for a moment though when he hears something Lavellan says: " We sometimes must play the role we have been given, rather than the one we would choose."

The words resonate strongly in him, bringing back too many unbidden memories. He follows the others without thinking as they take a table and order lunch. He doesn't participate much during the discussion over lunch, but is unable to break free of his own thoughts completely. Still, he does remember to express his concerns that Lavellan should at least have an escort to the salon she is meant to attend the next day, and the Seeker promises to find out if it will be allowed. Once they are done he retreats to his room to continue brooding in peace.

He notices Lavellan too returns to her room, while the others go out on their own business. Later he notices that she too seems to go out for a time and her departure is what finally begins to draw him out of his own thoughts. He wonders if the city is truly safe for her to be on her own. She is an elf and this is her first time in the city he thinks, and she may not be aware of the dangers. At the same time, she has the right to her space, she might not appreciate always having someone to watch over her. The longer she is gone however, the more distracted he becomes.

Fortunately, she does return before too long allowing him to relax again. He is more aware of her presence now though and as he tries to return his attention to reading, he finds his mind now drifts towards her instead.

It has been some time since they really talked he realizes, though they have spent every day in each other's presence. Still, this is one of the first opportunities either of them has had to spend time alone. Normally he would treasure such a chance, but as he continues to think of her, only a few rooms down, the space around him begins to feel distinctly empty until he starts to consider that he might just go to check on her, see if she is well or has any questions regarding any recent reading or would just like to talk. He can always just come back if she is content on her own.

He stands and is about to go do just this when he hears the sound of a door down the hall and her quick approach straight to his own door.

He hears the soft knock and walks to the door to immediately welcome her inside. Though he keeps his demeanor calm he cannot help the slight flutter he feels to see her there, smiling uncertainly up at him.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just thought if you had a few minutes, I had a few questions about what I've been reading," she tells him, reflecting his own thoughts back almost perfectly. He suspects he would have said something much the same if he had been the one at her door.

"Of course," he gestures for her to come in, "I would be happy to answer your questions."

He is caught rather off guard, however, when she walks directly past the empty chair to sit on the floor instead, laying the book out just in front of her.

He is so stunned, he can only watch in silence as she settles herself, several moments passing before he can recover, finally clearing his throat, to get her attention. "That is not necessary, you may have the chair, I am comfortable enough standing," he gestures towards the chair in offering.

Of course, she predictably manages to defy his expectations yet again by saying she actually prefers to sit on the ground. Knowing her it is true and she is not just being polite. He really should know better than to expect her to behave in any usual manner at this point. Her statement that the position somehow aids in her thinking is a strange one though, and he is unhesitating in expressing his curiosity on the matter.

The response he receives is unique and fascinating. That physically altering one's perspective might also alter their mental perspective in some way is not something he had ever considered before, but as he thinks over her words they seem to make an interesting sort of sense. Perhaps this is part of her secret, how she is able to see the world so differently from others.

He looks down at her and takes her in for a moment. There is an interplay of amusement and uncertainty in her aura and he supposes he should offer some response before her discomfort increases.

"That... actually makes quite a lot of sense," he concedes and steps forward to join her on the large plush rug, facing her from across the large book. He gets a mischievous sort of pleasure from the obvious shock this causes in her. "After such an endorsement for the practice did you really expect I would not seek to try it for myself?"

"I uh... I don't know... I just thought you would prefer the chair."

"That would normally be the case yes, but perhaps it is time I too seek out a new perspective," he carefully keeps his tone neutral but he is enjoying how the situation seems to have flustered her a bit. She does not seem to find his actions displeasing, perhaps even the opposite, but he has managed to surprise her for once, and turn the tables on their interactions.

Still, she valiantly tries to keep her composure, "Ok, well why not? Clearly I'm in full support of new perspectives, so... um... welcome to the floor."

At the silence that follows he takes pity on her and returns them to her original purpose for visiting, "I believe you had some questions."

"I- Yes, that's right," she answers gratefully and returns her focus to the book between them.

They spend the next couple hours discussing various passages she has marked in the book and the notes that become increasingly scattered around them. It is pleasant to see how seriously she is continuing to take her studies, but he also enjoys watching her in this new position. She really does seem more comfortable when not confined to a chair. Her relaxed demeanor is not lost on him either; she seems wholly un-self-conscious as she adjusts into various positions, even occasionally reclining fully onto the floor, eyes closed as she thinks through some concept or other.

He himself is far less comfortable. It is strange to have such discussion oriented this way. He is very aware of his posture and hesitant to adjust. He is unsure whether to think that this is because this is not the optimal approach for him, or that it is simply such a departure from what he is used to, and therefore should explore it further. He supposes that since the whole point is to get away from standard ways of doing or looking at things, he will accept the latter explanation for the time being.

The lesson finally comes to an end when the Seeker comes in looking for Lavellan, who is leaning over the book with legs stretched out to either side, much like the time he had once walked in on her accidently.

Lavellan seems to be merely amused by the discomfort the scene causes for the other woman and is playful in her responses to Cassandra's confusion before turning the conversation back to the reason for the initial interruption.

Once they are alone again they begin to gather up the scattered papers, returning the space to order. There is a sense of regret around them now and he is unsure whether some of it coming from her or if he is merely projecting it.

"I guess we'll have to continue this discussion later," she says as they work.

"It would be my pleasure," he answers. Despite knowing what a mistake it is, he cannot regret any of the time they spend together. In fact, it is becoming apparent that he increasingly anticipates it.

"Really? I'd think you'd be sick of me, and my endless questions, by now. Watch out or I'm going to start asking you for lessons on speaking Elvhen pretty soon."

Her tone is teasing but the idea of teaching her his people's language excites him in a new way. With her abilities, it is likely she would be able to learn the full scope of such communication, and not only the words. Just the idea of being able to communicate with her in such a way...

"If it is your wish to learn more of the language, I would be more than happy to assist you in the pursuit," he tells her.

"Well, now you've done it, as soon as I actually find the time for it, language lessons are getting added to the schedule. You will never be rid of me at this rate," she replies jokingly, but the smile is genuine.

"You assume I am trying to get rid of you, which I am not," He should be, but no matter what he tells himself, he seems unable to actually do so.

He stands and reflexively reaches a hand down to help her up.

"Good, because I won't let you anyway," she replies and takes his hand, allowing him to pull her up; the contact and her words causing his heart-rate to increase slightly.

Their eyes meet and hold for a moment but he manages to release his grip and hand the book over to her.

She heads toward the door then but falters halfway there, a new sense of nervousness coming off her, turning back towards him almost reluctantly, "I almost forgot, there was one other thing I wanted to tell you."

"What is that?" he asks, beginning to wonder if he should be concerned.

"I uh, I met Wisdom last night. I was worried about today so Creativity took me to see her."

He holds his breath at her words and walks towards her until he is directly in front of her again, looking down into the silver pools at the center of her eyes, "and was she able to help you?" he asks, softly, carefully.

"Yes, she helped me think through things effectively, it was exactly what I needed."

"She is good at that, I'm sure there is much you can learn from her. You are very fortunate indeed, to have made such good friends in the Fade already," he says.

"I feel incredibly lucky. And at the end of the night she introduced me to Hope. We didn't speak, but it was nice just being near such a spirit for even a short time," she smiles letting some of the amazed joy she clearly feels show through.

The temptation to reach out to her is there again and stronger than ever, yet he still holds himself back. Wondrous as this news is, this is not the moment to act so carelessly.

"Thank you for telling me," he says instead, "I am always interested to hear of your experiences in the Fade and I am glad you are willing to trust me with them."

 

When she finally does leave he can only continue gazing for some time at the back of the closed door she had just walked out of.

He had never expected she might meet his old friend. Wisdom is not one to allow herself to be easily found. The spirit must truly trust Lyara if she was willing to help her and even introduce her to yet another spirit. He had not realized he still bore lingering worry as to how Lavellan might treat spirits, but he trusts Wisdom's judgment above any other's. And though the spirit knows much he would not wish shared, he has absolute confidence she would never betray his secrets.

At the same time, it is with great wonder that he acknowledges this turn of events. Lyara is so far beyond what he could have ever imagined her to be and he wonders if she is even truly real. It seems too good to be true except for the fact he knows, in the end, he must betray her trust in him. He has always felt some sorrow at the prospect, but he is beginning to think he too will suffer from these circumstances.

It is a dangerous game he is playing, and he wonders if he will ever find the strength to stop, for both their sakes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys, how's everyone doing?
> 
> I promise you'll get a chapter in the main story next week but I've been on a roll getting work done on this and I'm hopeful to get caught up fairly soon. I think it will be easier if I can write both sides simultaneously in the future. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a great week.   
> And as always feel free to leave some thoughts in the comments or visit me on tumblr. :)


	11. Beyond the Tipping Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Chapter 29 in "Reality Dreaming"
> 
> Let them eat cake!!!

The foray out to make contact with the mysterious message writer turns out to be a simple matter, albeit strange.

It turns out to be a young elven woman who has sent them on this strange chase. He can tell he is not the only one who seems mistrustful of the unusual, brash elf, but Lavellan seems to remain unruffled by her appearance and is calmly able to find out a significant amount about the woman before accepting her request to join the Inquisition.

Solas is not sure this is truly a wise decision but accepts that it is not his to make. The Inquisition is still growing after all and will likely need whatever help it can get for some time. Perhaps this new recruit will have something useful to offer with her apparent skill with a bow and the contacts she purports to have.

 

The next day he barely sees Lavellan at all. She is up early with Bryn to find a dress for the evening and is on her way out by the time the rest of them come down for their own breakfasts.

Cassandra had sent an inquiry the day before, to see if one of them would be permitted to accompany the Herald to the salon, and they receive a response that morning expressing appreciation for their concern but assuring them that there will be no danger and the Herald will be well looked after. The tone of the missive is very polite but makes it clear no one else is invited.

Solas is at least gratified to see Cassandra's annoyance at the response is perhaps equal to his own. Certainly Lavellan had come a long way in her abilities, and is more than capable now of managing most interactions with potential allies and protecting herself from common threats, but sending her off to a situation full of so many unknowns feels like the height of folly.

Once they return and are given the news, Bryn too seems disappointed but not overly concerned. She's apparently done some research on the party's hostess herself and there is nothing in what she has found to be cause for concern. Her assessment is that the Enchantress is likely seeking, either to offer her aid to the Inquisition, or otherwise seek their help, possibly both. In either case, the Herald's safety and good grace would warrant great priority.

It seems a reasonable guess, but he still does not have to like it.

He tries to spend most of the day reading to keep himself occupied and is moderately successful. He is, however, the first back to the main room to wait for Lavellan to finish her preparations. They are all there waiting by the time she finally emerges, only a short time before the carriage, being sent to take her to the estate where the salon is to be held, is supposed to arrive.

When he first beholds her as she descends the last few stairs, he thinks he would not have recognized her at first if it weren't for the fact that he can clearly sense it is her. A moment later he does see though that it could be no one else. He knows she is beautiful, but the sum of her preparations only seem to amplify every bit of that beauty. He is glad of her decision not to wear a mask as is custom here, choosing instead simple makeup to create subtle enhancements that bring her most defining features to somewhat greater prominence. He had wondered how she might appear in his own world, and except for the marks upon her face, this vision outshines his pale imaginings.

He doesn't realize he is staring until Bryn comments, "Have none of you seen a woman in a dress before?"

He looks away in some embarrassment then, though is glad to find he is not the only one to have been so preoccupied by her appearance. He can't keep his eyes off her for long however, continuing to watch as the others offer their compliments. His fears are renewed knowing she will certainly draw the attention of all those around her and he can't bear to think she will be undefended in such a vulnerable position.

She finally turns to face him, but avoids looking him in the eye, "Do you think the dress suits me?" she asks and the uncharacteristic shyness in her manner only serves to charm him.

"It is lovely, and you wear it well," he answers sincerely but doing his best to maintain some distance. "I assume your Dalish upbringing offered little opportunity to be so attired, but your bearing in no way betrays such a background. You seem born to stand within such circles."

It is an understatement, he thinks, they are not worthy of her presence. The human elite of this world could not hope to measure up.

He sees the slight blush rise before she finds her voice, laughing nervously, "If all I had to do was stand there this might not be so bad, after wearing armor everyday this dress is awfully light. I'm more worried about being weighted down by an endless stream of meaningless polite small talk and empty smiles."

He can tell the prospect of the evening ahead makes her uneasy as well, though apparently for completely different reasons. "I'm sure you will do admirably," he offers in encouragement, but then cannot resist sharing his own concerns, "However, I do agree with Cassandra and wish at least one of us were able to go with you,"

"If it were up to me we'd all be going together, but unfortunately I did not write the invitation. I suppose a day had to come eventually when I'd have to be on my own for something. It could be worse," she says smiling and meeting his eyes just for a moment.

He can tell she is trying to sound reassuring but it is fairly clear she does not want to go and he wonders if he should insist on accompanying her, it need not even be him, he would feel better if any one of them were with her.

"The carriage is here, are you ready?" Cassandra says, coming back into the room.

He watches as Lavellan gathers herself, everything about her posture exuding confidence and determination now, only her aura giving her away, but all too soon she is gone. He holds on to the sensation of her presence for as long as he can but soon that too is beyond his reach.

He returns inside with the others but doubts he is going to be able to relax until Lavellan returns safely.

"Hey Chuckles, you look even more dour than usual," the dwarf says with a grin as he gives Solas a firm thump on the arm. "Don't worry, she'll be fine, I'm sure she can take care of herself in among a gaggle of bluebloods. You just need to take your mind off it and she'll be back before you know it. You should come out with me tonight, this one local bar is great, I'm sure you'd like it."

Solas can't think of anything he would like to do less at the moment, and does his best to decline politely, "I would rather not, perhaps another time."

Varric frowns but does not try to argue, instead his expression turns to one of sympathy, "Hey, I know you're worried, but hanging around here is just going to make the wait worse. You should get out of here for a while at least, find something to keep you occupied."

Solas is slightly taken aback by the other man's abrupt change from his usually cheerful and teasing manner and wonders if he shares in Solas' concerns.

"I am not... I– " he starts but then just shakes his head, relenting. "Thank you Varric, I will be fine. I'm sure reading will keep me sufficiently occupied."

Varric just gives him a dubious look in return but doesn't argue. "Alright, but if you change your mind you're welcome to join me, the others have the address if you need it."

Solas just nods and watches as the dwarf saunters off out the door, before heading up to his room.

The evening seems to stretch on forever. He does his best to read and manages to make some progress but has trouble maintaining his focus for any extended period. It seems ages before it is time for dinner, which he barely touches, after which he and Cassandra stay at the table for some time. The Seeker makes little effort to hide her opinion of having let the Herald go off on her own; their shared concern sparking an actual conversation between them.

It is actually interesting to speak to the woman on a more personal level. They have always been civil to each other but never made much effort to truly get to know one another. He is surprised by her honest interest in his life and abilities and he begins to see there is quite a bit more to this woman than he's been assuming. He had only been able to see her dedication to her faith and thought her as blind as most other of the Chantry's followers. Talking to her now he can see that, though her faith in the Maker is indeed strong, she has little trouble questioning the Chantry itself. It should have been obvious much earlier, with her strong support of the Inquisition despite the Chantry's condemnations. He just did not want to see it he supposes.

The room is empty of everyone but them when she says, "Why don't you go on up, I will wait for the Herald to return."

He agrees to this and returns to his room, intending to attempt sleep. Of course, he finds sleep impossible and soon returns to the book he'd left open on the desk earlier.

Knowing he will not sleep until Lavellan returns, and barely able to maintain focus on the words before him, Solas finally gives up and returns to the large room a couple hours later to relieve Cassandra.

"I can take over if you would like. I have had some rest and do not mind staying up to wait if you would like some sleep," he offers.

After some polite protestation she finally agrees to go, "Alright I will get some sleep, but you can wake me and I will take another shift if needed."

He agrees and she finally heads up the stairs, leaving him in the dim light of a few candles. The Inn is quiet and few sounds filter in from the outside. He positions himself in view of the entrance and settles down to continue reading, trying not to think about how late it already is and wondering how late would be considered too late for her return.

The time continues to pass, Varric returns, giving a wave as he heads up to his bed, and still Solas waits.

He is aware of it the moment she is again within reach of his senses. He wants to go out and meet her, but thinks better of it and simply waits where he is, trying to discern any indication there is anything amiss. He keeps his eyes on the door and watches as she finally walks through it, a wave of relief flooding through him.

Her emotions seem dulled by exhaustion, but nothing else seems wrong as he takes in her figure still standing by the door. He almost thinks she will go directly to her room but after she catches sight of him she moves in his direction instead, so he stands ready to meet her. She gets so close he's afraid she's going to run right into him, but she manages to stop just short, her proximity causing his heart rate to jump up a notch. It jumps yet again when she finally looks up to meet his eyes.

Instead of speaking though, she almost immediately drops her head onto his shoulder catching him completely by surprise, but he is careful not to move as he feels a sense of deep contentment coming from her and it takes quite a bit of control not to put his arms around her and share in the feeling.

"I take it you had a long evening," he says calmly.

He feels her nod but she still does not speak.

"Were there any problems?" he asks next and she shakes her head a little awkwardly. "Did the meeting go well?" She nods.

He wonders at her behavior, it is unusual for her to behave so familiarly. He hazards a guess, "Have you been drinking?"

But she just shakes her head again before finally offering a reply in barely audible murmur, "Just tired, Too much small talk, too many fake smiles."

He feels some displeasure from her at this memory and regrets questioning her.

"We should get you to bed then," he says and places his hand on her back to try to guide her in the direction of the stairs.

He intends this to be the extent of the contact, but the sound she gives him at being forced to leave her current position crumbles his willpower to enforce his intentions as she seems unwilling to do more than adjust her position so that she is leaning into his side instead, forcing him to put an arm around her to make sure she is supported. It is such simple contact, but it is more than he has had in more ages than he can count and the sensation threatens to overwhelm him. He does his best to resist it as he guides her forward and up the stairs, finally leading her to her door.

"I believe this is your room," he says and gently nudges her, worried she might just fall asleep where she is standing.

It is a relief and a regret when she finally pulls away so she can open her door, but he drops his arm and lets her go. He thinks he feels a similar sense of loss from her but does his best to ignore it.

She turns back to him then, eyes a little clearer. "You didn't have to stay up waiting," she says softly.

"Cassandra was up for a while but I offered to take her place once it got quite late," he explains.

"I see, thank you anyway. It was nice to come back to a friendly face... You make a good pillow too."

The tired smile she gives him almost has him reaching out to her again.

"It was no trouble," he manages to say instead, "You should sleep now, we can speak more tomorrow. Dream well."

"Good night," she says with a small wave before going through the door and closing it.

He let's out an unsteady breath once that barrier finally closes between them.

He goes back downstairs to retrieve his book, then returns to his own room, unable to get the memory of how she felt against him out of his mind. It is a dangerous thing, he knows, but it fills him with a longing he hasn't felt for such a long time. He had not even thought he might be capable of it again, especially not in a world such as this.

He must fight it, he must, but it is hard to want to.

He goes to bed and finally is able to escape to the Fade, hoping a night of rest will allow him to reclaim some amount of the distance he has so far managed to keep between them.

 

***

He sleeps moderately well but rises early, despite the late night. Though none of his activities in the Fade had been unusual he was aware of a presence that seemed to be trailing him. He suspects he knows what spirit it might be, but they wisely kept themselves out of his view, and on the edges of his senses.

In the end he had woken so as not to be tormented by the significance of the presence any longer.

Bryn is already there when he arrives for breakfast. "So when did she finally get in?" the woman asks right away as he sits.

"Why do you assume I would know that?" he asks in return. Bryn had been the first to go to bed the night before and knew Cassandra was intending to wait for the Herald's return.

However, the woman only gives a shrug and looks at him expectantly.

He huffs and says, "She got back sometime after one in the morning, apparently exhausted from small talk."

"Oh, good, I was afraid it might last until dawn, some nobles think it isn't a proper party if the sun isn't rising when they leave, this must have been a fairly casual affair." She smiles and goes back to her breakfast.

He says nothing but is quietly thankful the party did not go as late as she'd just suggested it might. He's not sure he'd be able to continue waiting calmly if Lavellan were still out there. Of course, he had also not known that it was likely such an event could run so late. However, Bryn had shown little worry the previous day, though he knew she too had not liked that no one would be allowed to accompany the Herald.

"I notice that you were not as concerned about the situation as some of us," he comments, "Did you possess some information that the rest of us lacked?"

Bryn looks at him, studying him for a moment before she answers, "I arranged for her to be looked in on. I have a few contacts that had access to the party and they would have informed me immediately if there had been any serious need for concern. It was not ideal, and I did not like that she was there alone, but I took what precautions were possible and trusted they would suffice."

"You might have told us about these precautions," he says with a frown. "It would have been good to know at least something had been done."

She shrugs again, "I guess I could have, though I doubt it would have changed much. I'm sure you still would have waited up for her." She looks up at him then and he sees what appears to be a flash of sympathy, "I will keep you informed next time however. There was no need to hide the information from you and Cassandra. I am simply used to keeping information in the hands of as few as possible, less likely that it gets compromised. Such caution was not necessary in this case however, I apologize."

He is somewhat taken aback by her words and the apparent sincerity of the apology and it takes him a moment to form a reply. "Well, I suppose it is good to know she was not truly on her own, but I would appreciate being informed under any similar circumstances in the future."

She nods and they both go back to their breakfast.

Cassandra comes down a short time later and Varric is the last to arrive. Solas repeats his story for each of them when they ask when Lavellan got back, though he leaves out most of the details, only saying she was exhausted. This is enough for them however, and they are all soon going about their usual morning with simple chatter and some new stories Varric has from the local tavern.

They have all finished eating when Lavellan finally appears. She is never particularly talkative in the morning and today is no different, though to him she seems even more subdued than usual, as though she is not fully rested, though all outside indications show her to be well and he is sure she has received a reasonable amount of sleep.

"So, how was your day yesterday? Anyone get up to anything interesting?" She asks as she sits down with her food.

They each tell her about their day while she eats quietly, though only Varric seems to have anything of much interest to say as he begins telling yet another story about something that happened in that bar. Solas is beginning to wonder as to the truthfulness of these tales, it seems unlikely so many interesting events could have happened in only one evening.

When they are all finished speaking, Cassandra asks Lavellan about her own night. He'd gotten barely any information from her when she'd gotten back so he is more than a little interested to hear some of the details himself.

She manages to summarize the entire thing rather concisely. Apparently the Enchantress had indeed petitioned to join the Inquisition and Lavellan had accepted the offer, followed by apparently long hours of small talk with nobles eager to make her acquaintance, which she claims is the source of her current fatigue.

He'd known she was not fond of small talk or social functions, they are not particularly favorite pastimes of his own, generally speaking, but he had not understood just how much she dislikes them, nor how strongly they clearly affect her.

He had hoped he would have the chance to speak with her more once she was awake, but she seems intent on spending the majority of the day on her own. It is a disappointment, but perhaps it is for the best. She shows no indication that she even remembers what happened when she got back, and it is certainly best if he tries to forget it as well. He knows she is safe now and that should be enough. Spending time with her would only make matters worse.

Once she leaves with Bryn, he heads back up to his room, avoiding Varric and whatever attempt he has in mind to get Solas to go out somewhere.

He does find it easier to concentrate now at least, and manages to get through a significant amount of reading, even skipping the noon meal when he decides he really doesn't have that much of an appetite.

He is aware of Lavellan's return, but once he determines that she is focused on other tasks, he returns his focus back to the book before him.

When he hears the knock on his door a short time later he actually starts at the sound. He'd convinced himself she would not seek him out today and it takes him a moment to collect himself and invite her in.

She enters and her nervousness is immediately apparent, "Good afternoon Solas, I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just wanted to deliver a little gift I picked up this afternoon."

She walks over to where he is sitting and sets a small box down in front of him, the nervous energy of her aura making him suddenly unsure himself, but it seems clear she wants him to open the box, so he turns to it and slowly lifts the lid to reveal four perfect cakes, their sweet aroma rising enticingly to meet his senses.

He is barely able to take in the offering before she is speaking again: "Two of them are mine but you can have the other two. I already gave cake to the others as well. You don't have to have two, but I _will_ eat three cakes myself otherwise. You can choose which you want, just don't take the one with the purple swirls, that one's mine."

He can't help but smile at her words as the flavor of her nervousness starts to sink in, raising a somewhat similar feeling in him, "Thank you, that's very kind. I suppose it would be irresponsible for me to allow you to eat three whole cakes on your own, therefore I shall take the two on the right," he teases, before closing the book before him and setting it aside to better accommodate the box and its contents.

She quickly and deftly removes the cakes from their box, delicate fingers lifting them gently before setting them down with their little paper doilies on the table. A fork is pulled out from somewhere and set next to the frilly treats.

"I hope you enjoy them," she says and gives him a warm smile. Then, to his surprise, she picks up the box and begins to leave. He does not even consider simply letting her do so, "Aren't you going to join me?" he asks before she's taken more than a couple steps.

When she turns back to him, he can see clearly that she does want to stay, but she still offers to leave him be, "I... I'm always taking up your time, I thought I'd leave you alone for once."

He can feel the tension, her desire to stay but the gathered will to leave if it is what he wishes and it only strengthens his own wish. After the last day and a half he feels as though he has been left alone enough. He wants her to stay, and if it is what she wants too, he cannot bring himself to reject her company. "Not at all, I enjoy your company. I would be happy to have you join me in appreciating such a treat," He stands and indicates the same rug they shared the other day.

"On the floor?" she asks in surprise.

"You seem to favor it. If you find it suitable for study I don't see why it should be any less so for cake. Consider it an indoor picnic."

The smile this elicits is more than gratifying, he'd hoped she would appreciate the gesture and he is quite pleased to have been right. "Sounds perfect then," her words echo the happiness of both the smile and that of her aura, still fluttering with that sweet, warm nervousness.

They quickly arrange the cake and themselves on the floor but suddenly it seems neither of them knows what to say next. He thinks, at first, to ask if she has any questions about magic, their usual topic of conversation, but somehow that seems like a less than appropriate subject, as does asking about the party the previous evening.

He is still at a loss for what to say when she speaks up, "I'm sorry about last night," she declares suddenly, but not looking at him, eyes firmly locked on the cake before them. "I didn't mean to just kind of ... fall on you like that. The night just took a lot out of me and I was half asleep and..." she gets out, words breaking of as she fights against her own nervousness. A careful breath to regain some composure and she tries again, "I just needed someone to lean on for a minute, I'm sorry if it was awkward for you, but thank you for being there."

So, she does remember, and for some reason he is glad she does, and glad she does not seem to regret it, rather only worrying for his own response. Of course he has no intention of expressing the extent of his true reaction but he can alleviate any of her fears on the matter. "I was surprised, but I did not mind," he tells her, then decides to go ahead and ask her about something he'd been slightly curious about, "I knew you were not fond of small talk, I did not realize it would be such a trial for you to attend an event of this nature. You said you did not drink though, it has been my experience that most people do so under such unpleasant circumstances."

He has been watching her but only now does she finally meet his eyes. "No, I did not drink more than was necessary to be polite. Perhaps I could have relaxed a bit more if I had, but I likely would not have been able to maintain quite the level of decorum that I did. As an outsider and an elf I wasn't going to have much leeway for mistakes if I wanted to earn any respect at all. So, in part it was a tactical choice. Also, it would have just made me even more tired in the long run. I actually don't care to drink all that often, especially around strangers."

"A wise strategy then, you continue to surprise me."

He shouldn't be surprised. He has noticed that she generally seems to prefer water or tea, forgoing almost all alcoholic beverages, even when most others are partaking freely, it should not be surprising that she would continue a similar pattern even in such different circumstances. He is also aware of how conscientious she can be with regards to the duties before her. That she had carefully assessed her position among the nobles at the party and acted in a way to best serve interests beyond her personal discomfort is also something he would expect of her. No, he knows she is exceptional, he should no longer be surprised by that fact.

But she clearly takes no offense as she grins at him coyly, "Well, you know how I hate to be predictable."

He watches as she finally cuts into the cake before her to bring the sweet bite to her lips. Perhaps he is a little _too_ focused on those lips but somehow he can't manage to pull his eyes away, especially after the wave of pleasure she gives off the moment the morsel hits her tongue, transforming her expression to match. He is transfixed even as she raises her hand to shield her reaction from him, and he wonders what other things might cause similarly alluring reactions in her.

"Oh gods that's good!" she says after a couple moments and hearing her voice suddenly brings him back to himself and he tries to push aside the images that had just assailed his mind.

"You have to try yours," she tells him happily.

He offers her a smile as he tries to recollect himself, "Well, it seems you are recovering then, the cake apparently makes an effective restorative."

"Oh it does, it really does," she says, taking another bite. He does not look at her this time but it is hard to ignore the similarly ecstatic impressions he can feel from her.

Her next words though do manage to divert his attention somewhat. She continues eating while she speaks but it is almost more compelling hearing her speak of her interactions with spirits again. Almost.

"I also had a nice quiet night with Creativity last night, which helped a lot. We made water sculptures by the river, no speaking necessary, just the sound of the water, it was very soothing."

"It sounds wonderful," he says, smiling at the image he now has of her enjoying such activities by a Fade river with a spirit and he wishes he could see it himself.

Almost mindlessly he finally lifts his first bite of cake to his mouth as he pictures it, but a moment later the flavors melt across his tongue in the most divine way. It has been a very long time since he's eaten something like this and sweets were always a weakness of his. He understands now Lyara's earlier ecstasy and he's sure it shows on his face too, when he closes his eyes to focus on the flavors filling his senses.

"See, I told you it was amazing," she exclaims.

When he is finally able to open his own eyes and look at her again, just as she reaches for another bite, he can feel the tension in the air has risen another notch, and only seems to increase even more as she takes another bite, apparently a little too quickly as she appears to have some difficulty swallowing this time.

"You are right, the cake is excellent," he agrees and does his best to return his full attention to said cake, rather than the beguiling presence before him. She too seems content to finish eating without further comment and they simply enjoy the rest of the dessert in comfortable silence, despite the tension.

The cake is very good and he appreciates the fact she brought two for each of them. In this at least, he can feel no guilt from partaking in the indulgence so fully. Even so, having her there, the warmth and happiness radiating from her, makes the experience that much more satisfying, despite the frustration that apparently comes with it.

Once they are done she deposits the empty box and other trash on the fire. He doesn't register much of that, however, because he finds himself rather distracted by the view as she crawls away towards the fire, immediately averting his eyes to the now quickly blackening box as she returns. It is some relief when she begins speaking again, "You know, I wonder what would have happened if Cassandra had been there to meet me last night instead."

He is slightly bewildered by the rather strange and abrupt suggestion but he answers her nonetheless. "I'd imagine that the armor would have made a far less comfortable pillow," he tells her, imagining the absurdity of the scene.

"True, but could you imagine her face if I tried anyway?" She asks.

And clearly that is exactly what she attempts to do as well, because she soon breaks into a fit of giggles.

He thinks of the Seeker and how the generally stoic woman might react to such circumstances, and imagines she would not be particularly pleased.

A moment later he hears a burst of laughter that, rather than subsiding quickly into softer amusement, only seems to become more intense as he watches Lyara slowly topple over onto the floor, completely overcome by mirth.

Though an amusing image, he does not quite see why it should cause this much of a reaction, and he is unsure what he should do while she remains in the grip of the apparent hilarity that now consumes her.

When it seems she is starting to calm slightly, she casts a glance his way and it all starts again. He is at a complete loss, but looking over at her shaking form, hands pressed to her eyes and a smile stretched across her face as she struggles for breath, her entire being radiating happiness, the awkwardness he feels melts away and he is simply happy too. She has been through so many trials and he has watched as she has faced each one, pulling herself through her own pain to struggle forward again and again, and yet here she is, safe and happy beyond words. He can only smile at this evidence of her own strength, that she could come through it all and still be able to laugh this way, he hopes she can hold onto it.

He waits, allowing her to enjoy every moment of the laughter she can, watching as she slowly calms down and returns to a sitting position facing him, wiping the evidence of so much mirth from her face.

"I'm sorry," she tells him yet again, "I don't know why that was so funny."

"There is no need to apologize," he says, standing and stepping forward to reach down to her, "It is good that you can laugh like that. You should enjoy it whenever you can."

She takes his wrists as he wraps his fingers around her more delicate ones and gently pulls her up to standing before him. He suddenly becomes aware of how close she is as she raises her head to meet his eyes, the tension sharpening dramatically.

It is good that she steps back when she does, or he might have done something inexcusable; might have pulled her in closer, run his fingers over those delicate features...

Fortunately her words break into these thoughts before they can go further, "Well, I think we have properly spoiled our dinner," she says nervously, "but I guess I'll see you downstairs later anyway."

He is relieved, when she lets go of him, and yet the loss is palpable.

"Yes, I shall see you later," he says, keeping his voice friendly but as neutral as he can make it.

He watches as she walks out of the room, and closes the door behind her. Once she's gone he raises his hands to his face, but it does nothing to dull the sense of longing still thrumming under his skin.

He knows he has to fight these feelings, they can only lead to pain for both of them. He knows this. Yet somehow, for all that he knows, there seems to be some treacherous part of himself that refuses to believe it and is determined to defy everything he has ever been most sure about.

He is utterly at odds with himself, and for the first time, he is unsure which side he hopes will win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my wonderful readers!! I hope you are all having a great day!
> 
> Of course, after editing this chapter I am craving cake, but it's 2:30 in the morning so I guess I have to wait.
> 
> As always feel free to let me know what you think, here or on tumblr.  
> I love you all, take care!


	12. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to chapters 30-31 of "Reality Dreaming"

He is grateful for the distance travelling automatically creates. If nothing else it allows him the opportunity to think.

On the road, he and Lavellan return to their typical interactions, but there is something different between them now. It is subtle but undeniable in its significance. It seems she has noticed the change too, and seems equally wary of what it might mean. It is not that she acts any different towards him, in fact they are both careful not to change the tone of their usual interactions, and perhaps this is what gives it away the most blatantly in his eyes. He does find his attention drawn towards her even more than usual, though he is beginning to realize just how much of his attention she already had claim to.

Yes, he is grateful for the distance travel creates, and the fact that he is never left alone with her. But then, there is also little opportunity for them to be truly apart. She is rarely even beyond his view, he need only turn his head to see her there. When she begins riding at the head of the group, there is not even that. And her presence in his senses continues to be ever constant.

He tries to reign in his thoughts as they make their way towards Haven, to remind himself of his purpose, of all he is trying to do and the potential consequences of failure. He considers the dangers of such a distraction, and the inevitable pain. He goes over it again and again and just as he feels he is getting back his resolve, he'll hear her laughter, see her smile, or simply be drawn to the graceful line of her neck and back as it shifts along to the movement of her horse.

Dreams are his only escape and yet they become a different kind of torment. He spends most of his time on his own, though he sometimes catches the feeling he is still being trailed off and on. He cannot fault the spirit that's following him because it is really only following its nature, but it is yet another sign of just how much the situation is affecting him.

Sometimes he goes to visit Wisdom and apprise her of their general progress, or consult with her on some point of theory or another but he keeps these visits short. She is far too adept at reading between the lines and seeing that which he does not wish to show. She does not say anything during these encounters, but he gets the feeling she would like to ask many questions, if he were to allow it.

Despite his own internal struggles, the journey back to Haven is a smooth one and they run into few problems. On the outside, his interactions with the Herald are unremarkable. She seems more relaxed the farther they get from Orlais, but then so do they all.

One morning however, she seems different. He can detect a deep concern and dull anxiety coming from her, and she is quieter than usual as they pack up camp. When they take to the road she keeps herself at the front, leading the way a good distance ahead of their group and it is clear the space is deliberate.

He decides to respect her desire for this semi-solitude and stays back throughout the morning. He monitors her condition however, trying to detect any significant changes either good or bad. Over the course of the morning, she seems to calm, an air of peace returning.

He is glad to see the positive change, but it is still unusual for her to be so affected when they have not encountered anything of significance for so long. He suspects that since this mood seems to have manifested upon her waking, there might be a connection to her dreams, perhaps some new encounter in the Fade. It has been some time since they have spoken on this topic and there is no telling what she may have experienced since then. He decides to approach her, and if she allows it, he will offer what guidance or comfort he can, regarding what concerns she might be willing to share with him. It is a bit of a risk to have such a conversation with the other not far off, but if she stays as far ahead as she is, they should have some time at least.

He makes his way forward slowly. He is sure she can sense his intention at this point and he is mindful of any sign that she would rather he stay back. She shows no indication she wishes him to leave her alone so he continues forward until he has pulled even with her.

He rides along beside her silently for a time, both to decide the best way to broach his concerns, and also to offer her the chance to set the tone or even change her mind about allowing him to speak with her. She seems content to simply wait for him however and so he finally speaks, voicing his thoughts, "I thought I would enquire if you were well this morning, you seemed somewhat more preoccupied than usual upon waking, I was concerned you may have had some kind of upsetting experience in the Fade. As we have faced nothing of much note since we left Val Royeaux it seems the most likely explanation."

He can tell she is somewhat surprised he would bring up the subject now, but the others are some distance back and there is no way to know when the next appropriate opportunity might arise. Still she takes a few moments before responding.

"I'm fine now, the peaceful travel today has helped settle my mind a great deal. My night itself was actually very good; I was able to see Wisdom again. It was helpful for me to simply talk to her about some of the difficult realities of my current situation. She helped me to see things more clearly," She explains.

It is clear there is more though, so he waits again, knowing she will speak in her own time, another trait they seem to share.

"I'm very glad to be making friends in the Fade," she begins, "It is something that I never imagined might be possible. Even just experiencing greater consciousness in my dreams has been a fascinating experience, despite a few frightening or difficult moments. But having friends there, spirits who want to know me and communicate with me is unbelievable and amazing. Their friendship is just as real to me, and I care about their well being as much as that of all the friends I've made here. This world is in so much chaos right now though, so much danger, and we are in the thick of it. A large part of what keeps me going, of what has allowed me to overcome some of the most difficult challenges I've faced so far, is my desire to do whatever I can to protect those I care about here, those who have done so much to protect me."

He notices the mention of 'frightening and difficult' experiences and wishes he could question her more on these, but knows this is not the time, there is something else of greater concern to her it seems. Hearing her then speak of her friendship with spirits, how real to her it is, how important, just as if they were any of her other companions. Hearing her say these things, though he already knows how open she has been to them, how accepting, it still means so much to him to hear she feels this way. He cannot dwell long on these feelings however, as she continues to speak, finally coming to the cause of her current anxiety.

"This morning I woke up feeling awe and joy at the friends I've gained in the Fade, but not long after, I was hit with a realization that I found incredibly disturbing. The chaos around us now is not only on this side of the Veil. The rifts, the Breach; those all reach across into the Fade, forcing spirits through that may have been more than content to remain in the Fade. So much of Thedas is in turmoil and there is a lot of fear. With the Circles broken and mages threatened by those that fear them, some might turn to desperate measures. Even without the current troubles there is likely always a risk a spirit may be summoned and bound." She takes a breath in an effort to stem the emotions rising in her, emotions he can feel all too well as her words begin to sink in.

"I'm also worried now for our friends across the Veil. Tragedy can strike anywhere, especially at times like this. It can happen without warning, things we believed would be there forever can be taken away in a flash of fate." She turns to meet his eyes then, the emotion showing as clearly in them as they do in her aura. "I want to do what I can to protect the spirits too, but I don't know how. Is there anything you know of that could ensure their safety, or at least improve it?"

Her words, and the possibilities they present, catch him slightly off guard. He has not thought to consider such things, he who has such a close connection to the Fade and to many spirits within it. Perhaps in some way he has taken them for granted. What other explanation can there be for him to neglect the idea of such possibilities while she, so new to the wonders of the Fade, has been able to recognize them so clearly. He had thought he had learned to expect the unexpected from her and yet she surprises him again, even if it is to bring his attention to such grim prospects.

He wants to tell her that the chances are slim that what she suggests will happen, and therefore not worth worrying over, but the instant he thinks this, he knows it's wrong. She is right, there is no way to know what might happen, especially with such turmoil across both planes. The Breach is bad enough, but what if worse happens? It is also just as likely a spirit they know could be bound as one they do not. There is likely no way to protect them all, but if they could protect even just a few...

Unfortunately, he has no answer for her. Having never considered the problem he can hardly even theorize a solution.

"It is a good question," he finally tells her, "It is one I believe few in this world have thought to ask. It does you great credit that you have thought to do so, and more so your reasons for seeking to answer it." He offers a smile in appreciation, but there is little cheer in it under the circumstances.

"The truth is that I do not know if there is some way we may protect our friends," he continues. "There are amulets I have read of, which can be used to protect spirits manifested in this world from binding, but I know of nothing similar that may have the same effect within the Fade." He takes a slow breath and decides to admit his oversight, "I have generally believed that those spirits I call friends are very capable of staying away from danger, but under the current circumstances it would be unwise to take their safety for granted. If none of us are safe, why should spirits be an exception? I share your concern and though I do not possess any answers for you at this time, I believe it will be worth the effort of seeking them out. Perhaps we might research this problem and find an answer together."

He is not sure proposing such a collaboration is wise, but perhaps it will make little difference. He is still her teacher and companion, there is little chance they will gain any greater distance than they have now, and if they must work so closely together in any case, at least they can try to do the most good with it they possibly can.

He notices Cassandra adjust her horse's gait, and recognizes their time to discuss this topic is growing short. He looks at Lyara expectantly, waiting for some response to his suggestion.

"I'm not sure how much help I can be," she says quietly, clearly noticing the Seeker's approach too, "But I will certainly do whatever I can."

He acknowledges the comment with a nod. He is not sure how she can help either, but she has already shown great insight, perhaps she will be able to see something he misses. He supposes having two minds on the problem cannot hurt and he trusts her in this, knows she will do her best where those she considers friends are concerned, she has already proven that.

"Is everything well? Are there any problems we should be aware of?" Cassandra asks as she reaches them.

With seemingly no hesitation, Lavellan is answering the Seeker, "No, everything's fine. I just had some concerns regarding some magical theory, which I was struggling with. Unfortunately it is a rather complicated topic and will require more extensive study before my questions can be resolved. It is a rather frustrating matter but not of any immediate concern."

He finds he is rather impressed with her explanation. She has managed to wholly speak the truth while still entirely concealing what they had been discussing. Though she has frequently claimed to lack talent at lying, it is clear that she has great talent at other sorts of deception. Has he underestimated her in this as well? Perhaps even her claims about lying are in themselves an example of her abilities to mislead. He is not even sure what to think about this possibility, it is both an admirable quality and a possibly worrisome one, but he can consider that more at a later time. At the moment it seems the rest of their group have decided to find out what's going on as well.

Cassandra voices her curiosity on the matter as the others draw up close, "I admit I know little of magical theory. Templars and Seekers are trained to recognize magic and stop it if necessary but few know much about how it actually works. What kind of magical theory is it that you are currently concerned about?"

After a brief debate among the others the Seeker requests a description of the topic at hand, at which Lavellan glances his way with a clear request for some support, before giving her reply.

"I'm afraid it's a little difficult to explain, I think Solas would be better able to explain it," she says, revealing the nature of her request.

To be honest, he is mostly amused with the situation and has no qualms about participating in the deception. Thus he proceeds to nearly quote some rather ridiculously worded explanation he'd found in one of the books he'd read recently. Truthfully, he felt the theory to be absurd in more than just its wording, but it sounds impressive enough for their current needs and he doesn't have time to come up with anything better himself.

It isn't long but in the end it seems to have the desired effect, judging by the various confused and amused looks he is getting from the others.

When Cassandra asks and Lavellan admits to not understanding much either, it seems their aim is achieved. The conversation turns instead to demands of learning magic, and ends up earning both of them a little credit in the Seeker's eyes.

 

Later that night, when Lavellan wakes him for his watch, she brings up the conversation again, "I'm sorry about this afternoon, I didn't mean to put you on the spot so suddenly, but thanks for playing along."

"It was no trouble," he assures her, "I'm sure it would not have been wise to actually reveal the true details of our discussion. However, I must say I was impressed at your ability to conceal the truth so smoothly. I was under the impression that you believed yourself less than capable at the art of deception, yet you were able to respond to the situation as if it were second nature, is this a skill you have recently become proficient at or were you understating your actual abilities?" Though his question is asked in earnest, he keeps his tone just slightly teasing. He has no wish to insinuate he believes her to be any less worthy of trust.

She smiles a little sheepishly at him, "Well, I'm pretty sure I've always said I am bad at _lying_ , which is true, outright lies are much more difficult for me to pull off. However, life has a tendency to require a certain amount of dishonesty so I have had to find other ways to deal with such situations. I have found it to be much easier, and in some ways more effective, to simply be selective in how I present the truth. Few things work better to hide the truth than using a person's own assumptions based on how things are presented to them. People love to create their own narrative that fits into their preferred perception of things, all you have to do is offer them the opportunity to do so. It allows me to be completely honest, while they lie to themselves. I know this may not be any better from a moral standpoint, but when I need to keep something hidden, this is what works for me."

She isn't looking at him now and he can feel the hint of uncertainty in her now, indicating she is concerned about his judgment. "That does sound like a reasonable strategy, and it clearly does work well for you," he tells her, hoping to reassure her that he in no way thinks less of her, especially since it seems she doesn't really like having to deceive people. It is often a necessary evil and it is good she has found a way to face such situations effectively. "It is an unfortunate business," he continues, "But such are often necessary skills. In some cases, it can be the lesser of evils. It may be preferable to deceive someone in order to avoid killing them, for instance. Unfortunately, it is unlikely either of us will live to see a world where neither are necessary."

He sees her taking in his words, thinking them over and nodding, eyes focused out into the middle distance, emotions too mixed to read clearly, but seem to indicate some kind of worry.

"I would like to offer my own apology for this afternoon," he tells her then.

"What? Why?" she asks, his effort at distraction clearly working.

"Well, I'm afraid my part in the deception was not quite at the level I would have preferred," he shakes his head and speaks with perhaps a little more dramatic regret than is actually applicable.

"Oh really? How so?" She asks, trying to hold back a smile.

"Well, I would have preferred to have stayed in the spirit of the deception and actually communicated the true topic of our discussion in an equally obtuse manner as the example I chose instead. I simply didn't feel I had enough time to prepare a sufficiently incomprehensible explanation of the subject."

"Hmm, interesting. I assume you've had plenty of time since then to consider the matter, I'm curious what you would actually have said if you could," her eyes turn towards his now, glittering with anticipation.

"I was thinking something along the lines of, 'we were discussing the rather recondite matter of safeguarding entities intrinsic to demesnes interclasped, yet not fully amalgamated with the more corporeal construct most regard as generally prerequisite towards the legitimacy of authentic existence. This contradistinctive status, however, gives rise to a number of unique complications, which, due to a dearth of detailed investigation, are at this time insurmountable, leaving the subjects of concern with considerable vulnerability against a number of unforeseeable variables, making any efforts towards their defense an ambitious and formidable dilemma."

No sooner does he finish with this recitation than he is met with the sound of stifled laughter.

"Wow," she finally says, grinning, "You really thought about that didn't you? I barely understood that and I knew exactly what you were talking about. Although if it were a bit slower I'm sure I could have caught more. Still, the language was so dense, I felt my eyes glazing over in spite of myself."

She yawns in the middle of another small laugh then, and puts a hand up to his shoulder as if to steady herself ,and he feels himself warm at the contact.

"It's probably best you didn't say that though," she goes on as if there had been no interruptions, "Someone might have figured out what you were saying in the end, so going with something completely unrelated was probably for the best." She finishes her statement with a light pat of her hand on his shoulder, all appearances suggesting that she doesn't quite realize what she is doing.

"Then I suppose it all worked out for the best," he concludes. "You should get some sleep, I'm sure it will be another long day tomorrow."

"You're probably right," she smiles up at him, "Good night, Solas." She lets her hand slide down his arm till it falls free, leaving a tingling sensation behind.

"Dream well," he tells her and she returns to her tent.

He runs his own hand lightly over where hers had been before choosing a position near the fire to spend his watch.

 

***

 

Though the possibilities Lavellan had drawn to his attention were quite worrisome, there was an unexpected benefit to them. He can now enter the Fade each night with new purpose. He has something of importance to focus on, a goal to achieve and it keeps him from dwelling on other things. He begins to explore both his memories and the various reaches of the Fade in search of some way to protect the spirits within. There are many places to look and so he knows he will be able to stay occupied for a while.

The more focused on these efforts he is, the less likely he is to be distracted by other things, and the less likely he is to be tormented by spirits drawn toward the feelings he continues to fight. There is still that one spirit that continues to trail him now and then, but he is almost able to ignore it.

 

It is a relief to them all when they finally reach Haven. Though the long days on the road had not been particularly eventful, they had been tiring in their own right. He could even be grateful at the prospect of enjoying the comfort of his own small cabin and the opportunity for some actual solitude. He does not mind the company of their companions as much anymore, but he also values the chance to have time to himself again.

He tries to keep this in mind as he watches Lavellan walk away towards the Chantry before heading towards his cabin, declining yet another invitation from Varric to join him in the tavern. Does that man ever give up?

He should in fact take advantage of the fact that he will be spending less time around her now that they are back. Even if their lessons continue, it will only be a couple hours each day, as she will undoubtedly have many other matters to attend to. He has allowed himself to become far too close to her and he knows if it continues, it cannot end well.

He has repeated this to himself over and over at this point, yet each time it feels like it has less power. He is beginning to feel as if he is losing his balance every time she is near him; her every word, every move, drawing him towards her like gravity.

He believes, and he is almost sure it is not only wishful thinking on his part, that she is also feeling a similar pull. She seems to be fighting it better than he is though. His logical mind tells him this isn't a bad thing, it tells him that he should hope she succeeds where he is clearly failing, because if she can resist the pull, then he will as well. However, if she ever gives in, he no longer trusts himself to be able to stand up against his own desires.

Already he gives in too easily. Though he has always valued his solitude he has found himself choosing her company over it, time and time again. Even when she offers to go, he bids her to stay, though it would have been far wiser to let her leave. He does this every time, and never seems able to reject her company or turn away any opportunity to be near her, as if her company is filling some space he never knew was empty until she is gone.

And when they touch...

The contact has always been brief, and it is still a rare thing, but he remembers every instance. He even remembers the times that she will never remember, after her emergence from the Fade. At that time, he had treated her as little more than a specimen for study. He wishes sometimes that he could go back, and treat her with the care she deserved, demanded they all treat her more gently. It is a foolish wish of course, but he cannot help the shame at his treatment of her only a few months ago, it would be unthinkable now.

Thinking back, he thinks his favorite moment was in Val Royeaux after the salon, when she was so tired she could barely stand. She had leaned herself in against him, allowing her body to press in close to his. He has noticed that she tends to avoid physical contact nearly as much as he does. She is not one of those who seem inclined to give people hugs without provocation. Quite the contrary in fact, as she even seems hesitant to shake another's hand. But when he reaches out to her, she never hesitates to accept, and that night it felt like a great demonstration of trust and comfort in his presence, that she let her guard down so completely, and he hardly feels deserving of it. He does not deserve it. Even so, he treasures the memory.

He still wonders though, what it would have felt like if he had put his arms around her then. It seems unlikely she would have objected. What if she had returned the gesture, delicate arms wrapping around him in return, holding him tight and close. Just thinking about it sends a shiver down his spine. To simply hold and be held... how long has it been?

He should really stop dwelling on these things, it is not helping matters at all. He is supposed to be trying to regain some distance, he reminds himself. Yet in the same thought, he also wonders when he might have the good fortune to touch or be touched by her again. Just one more time he thinks, perhaps just one more time and it will be enough.

It is a lie, but to quiet the logical side of his mind for a time, he does not mind telling it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! Another week, another update, and I hope this finds you well!
> 
> Next week will be another chapter in the main fic and then we'll get to some Solas POV handholding here, the week after. I'm nearly caught up with Solas' side now, so I hope to concentrate on the main fic more in the near future. I always look forward to sharing each new chapter with you, I hope you enjoy!


	13. Taking Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Reality Dreaming Ch. 32
> 
> (holding hands pt. 1)

The next morning he wakes to find the day bright and pleasant but it isn't long before he feels a restlessness come over him, and he knows that he does not want to stay inside today.

He is not certain whether Lavellan will visit him today or not, but it is unlikely she would arrive before the afternoon, which is her customary time to visit. Chances are she will be occupied with other matters for the morning, so he decides to go out and gather herbs. His stores are getting somewhat low, as he did not collect much on their way back. Perhaps he will also check with the alchemist to see if there is anything lacking from the Inquisition's stores as well, and gather what he can while he is out.

Once he's had his breakfast, this is exactly what he does, and it is a satisfying morning in the end. The physical activity and need to focus on the world around him in order to find the plants he's seeking, serve to keep his mind sufficiently occupied and yet not so consumed that he is not able to think of other things at the same time. The morning passes quickly and it is a little after midday when he finally makes his way back to Haven.

He takes a respectable collection of herbs to the alchemist, who thanks him in a gruff manner that nonetheless communicates real gratitude, before heading back to his cabin with the intention of preparing a simple late lunch.

As he is walking he notices the un-mistakable stride of Bryn from the corner of his eye. With a slight turn of his head he sees she is actually heading straight for him, clearly intending to speak with him. The woman has never approached him this way before and in fact they do not often communicate directly at all. He cannot imagine what would cause her to seek him out this way.

She moves with quick grace, but at the same time there is a power and confidence there that announces to anyone who might see, that she is someone you'd better watch out for. He knows that she can alter this impression when she wishes and even be genuinely friendly, but it is always a little jarring when she shows the side of her that is bright and sharply humorous because the usual impression she gives off is so strong.

Lavellan, by contrast, is more lithe and soft in her movements and hardly seems threatening at all until the blades come out or when there's a tough situation to be faced, bringing out her hidden strength and even ferocity.

If one is able to get past the threatening impression and let Bryn get close to them before running the other way, the next thing they are likely to notice is how small she actually is. She is almost the exact same size and body type as Lavellan, which is probably one of the reasons she was chosen as her trainer in the first place. However, that is where the resemblance ends.

Bryn is human, for one thing. Her skin is a smooth tawny color and her eyes and hair are also dark. Shoulder-length wavy hair almost always pulled back in a well-bound ponytail. Though he suspects she is not even 30, it is apparent that this is a woman who has been through a lot. She knows suffering and she has fought for survival her whole life. And clearly she has more than succeeded in the fight.

"Good afternoon," he greets her once she is near enough.

"I'd like to speak with you for a moment," she says right away, not even bothering with the pleasantries.

He just nods in response and follows her a little off the path to an area that is not quite so busy and where they aren't likely to be overheard. Her manner doesn't really bother him, he knows she can be more polite when she chooses, but it is certainly not unusual for her to just get straight to the point.

"Tomorrow I will begin the Herald on a new course of training," she begins once they are out of earshot of passersby, "and I hope you will be able to assist me."

He is even more confused now, "I don't understand, how could I be of assistance in your lessons with the Herald, I am not an expert in the use of the weapons involved in such disciplines."

Of course, he knows more than anyone in Haven could guess, but he doesn't intend to divulge that fact. He is also, admittedly, a little out of practice.

"I have noticed that you seem to be particularly sensitive to her emotional state. I consider myself to be more than a little observant in such matters, but in this you seem to have me beat. You also seem able to affect those emotions by your mere presence, just as she clearly affects yours."

This is all said in such a casual and matter-of-fact way that it takes him a moment to fully understand what she has just said. He feels the heat of embarrassment rise, but she had spoken without the slightest hint of teasing or judgment so he feels like he cannot take offence at the rather frank statement.

Even so, he does not respond, instead simply waiting for her to continue with her explanation, which she does in short order.

"I am trying to train her as effectively as possible in the limited time that is available and therefore I have to use some methods that are necessarily more extreme than more traditional ones," she begins. "Since leaving for Val Royeaux the Herald has not faced any real challenges. She has grown in confidence, but there is the danger of it becoming overconfidence. Even if it does not cross that line, she may still begin to feel lax in her need to continue training, believing her current skills will be enough, but I know she has barely been tested yet and there are likely to be much greater challenges ahead. Do you agree?"

The sudden question nearly catches him off guard, but he answers with a careful, "Yes, I suspect that may be true."

"Good," she states, then continues, "I want to instill a sense of urgency, even desperation, in her, to show her that there are still many enemies that could be very serious threats to all of us and force her to really struggle to find as many ways as possible to combat them. However, what I have in mind requires a rather delicate balance. I need to push her to her edges, but not so far that she gives up. I know I can push her pretty far but I'm not sure I'll be able to know exactly where to draw the line. This is where you come in. Do you think you would be able to tell when she has been pushed right to the edge of her patience?"

He doesn't answer right away. He takes his time thinking over the details of the proposition and he isn't sure he likes what he is hearing. It does seem rather extreme, the way she is describing it, and he is unsure such an approach is truly necessary. However, she has clearly done well in her methods so far, he has watched many camp-side practices and it is clear this woman knows what she is doing. Perhaps he should trust her to try, and if there seems to be any problems down the line he can step in.

"Yes, I believe I would be able to tell, what is it exactly you have in mind?" he finally asks, deciding to at least hear her out.

She gives a slight smile then, glad that he isn't immediately rejecting the idea. "How close do you need to be? Do you need to be able to see her or will be able to tell from some distance?"

"Please explain what it is you intend and I will tell you if I will be willing to help you," he tells her, becoming a little impatient. He has no intention of revealing how easily he can read her unless he feels there is some kind of justifiable reason.

Bryn takes on a more serious mien and proceeds with her explanation, "I am planning to pit her against the strongest fighters I can find in Haven, even multiple enemies when I have to, so she will taste defeat repeatedly. It is the same type of technique I started her with only greatly intensified. I've noticed how she deals with frustration in her work with you, whenever it seems she is getting nowhere her mind is engaged by it and she continually tries to find some way past even unseen obstacles until one day, once presented with the proper opportunity, there's a breakthrough and she performs well beyond expectations. She has even done this with me on a few occasions, and I just want to up the scale. What I need from you is to give me some indication each day when she is getting too close to that edge. I do not want to cross that threshold or it will result in a potentially irrecoverable setback. Ideally you will be able to sense this from a distance, then you simply approach the training area to signal when I should end the lesson. Your appearance should also serve to calm her just enough to finish out whatever we're working on. I should warn you, if this works the way I plan it, she is likely to hate me for the next couple weeks and might need a cool-down period before she can focus on her lesson with you each day."

She pauses here for a moment, giving him time to let what she's just told him sink in. "Any questions?" she asks finally.

He considers this for a while, thinking through her plan. It is clear that she has been paying attention and understands Lyara better than he'd realized.

"And if the Herald decides at some point that she is against your methods, what then?" he asks.

"She will not know my ultimate intentions until after this course of training is complete. Her confidence will likely be pretty low at that point but I have some ideas for how to show her how far she's come. If she expresses a desire to do something differently before we finish, I will try to convince her to keep up with it, but if she insists, it will not be of use to continue and I will try something else," she says with a shrug.

Bryn's voice is calm and it seems as though she is sincere, though she is a spy so she could likely lie as easily about this as anything else, but in the end it is doubtful Lyara could truly be forced into anything she chose not to do.

"As long as you can assure me that you will cease if the Herald clearly objects, I believe I can help you," he says finally, hoping he is not making a mistake. He does agree with Bryn's belief that there are likely much greater challenges ahead and Lavellan will need yet significantly more skill if she is to face them and have a chance at survival. There is no telling how soon such trials may appear, and if this could produce results as quickly as Bryn suggests, it may be worth the risk.

"I promise that if the Herald should give a clear and firm objection to the challenges I set for her, I will stop and look for a new strategy," her voice and face are completely solemn as she speaks and Solas decides to accept his role in this plan.

"I will need to be somewhat close, but I should be able to stay well out of view until the appropriate time," he tells her simply.

"Great," she says, slight smile returning. "I'll come by tomorrow morning and discuss the details of what you should do, but I'll let you go for now. You should get back to your cabin. I'm sure the Herald will head there once her meeting is finished today."

Solas looks at the woman with some skepticism, "What makes you so certain she would do so, she may prefer to rest on her own instead. I'm sure she is still tired from the long journey back."

The look he receives seems to suggest that she is questioning his intelligence.

He thinks she is just going to walk away but with a shake of her head she says, "When was the last time she had time to herself that she _didn't_ go see you?" She pauses significantly then, without waiting for an answer, turns back to the path, "I'll see you tomorrow," she tosses over her shoulder as she walks off.

He can only stand there and watch her go as that final question echoes in his mind.

He starts walking again a moment later, as he begins to think back. It is true that he cannot think of a day she didn't come to visit even when there was no need for her to. Still, those truly free days were a rarity to begin with, just because she had always visited him up until now did not mean that she would do so again today. She might prefer Varric's company for the afternoon. She might be tired from her meeting and wish to rest on her own. She might also come to see him, but it is hardly a certainty. Still, he might as well go back to the cabin now, he still needs to prepare the herbs he's gathered.

 

It is less than an hour later that he feels her approach his cabin. He'd been dealing with the herbs since getting back but almost from the moment he was back in the cabin, he started feeling restless again. Despite him knowing there was no guarantee she would visit today, he found himself hoping that she would, and he couldn't help a certain amount of impatience as a result.

Hence, just as she arrives he simply opens the door, rather than wait for her to knock.

Her hand is already poised to knock and the sudden opening of the door has left her with a slightly startled expression, which she manages to recover from quickly.

"Good afternoon _lethallan_ ," he says, "I wasn't sure I would be seeing you today." He is careful to keep his eagerness at seeing her out of his expression but he cannot help the way his heart speeds up as she smiles for him

"I wasn't sure either," she admits, "I thought they might keep me in that meeting all day." She looks to the interior of the cabin as he invites her in with a gesture but then turns back to him without moving to enter, "Actually, I'm kind of tired of being inside, would you care to join me for a walk. I thought I might walk around the lake to stretch my limbs after all that time hunched over maps and stuff."

"Of course, I would be happy to join you if you wish for company." He accepts quickly and is glad for the suggestions as the sense of restlessness that has plagued him all day is still with him and only seems to have intensified with her presence. He pulls the cabin door closed and moves to walk by her side as they head down the path towards the gates out of Haven. "I had thought perhaps you would choose to spend any free time you had today on your own. There has been little chance for you to have private time while on the road. I thought that might be something you would seek out once we returned to Haven."

He's not sure why he tells her this, but there is something in him that seems unable to believe she would truly choose to spend her precious time on him, he is hardly worthy. Of course, he supposes she cannot know all the reasons why she shouldn't be so generous with him. Perhaps he says it as the only attempt he can muster to tell her her time would be better spent elsewhere.

She looks over at him then, a sudden confusion and uncertainty filling the space around her, "Is that what _you_ wanted?" she asks, "You don't have to come with me if you'd rather enjoy time on your own, you know, I would totally understand if you need some space or something. I know I tend to come by and bother you a lot, but anytime you want me to go, you just need to say so, I won't be offended."

He is stunned by her words and her reaction. It is not at all what he'd intended. He has no idea what has caused her to think he might not actually want to spend time with her, he only knows he must correct the misconception posthaste.

"No, you misunderstand me." He turns to her hoping to impress upon her his earnestness, "If I required time alone I would inform you of it, I was more concerned about you. You have often indicated that you greatly value your private time, thus I was simply somewhat surprised that you would seek out company when you have had so little opportunity to be away from others over the last few weeks."

She looks at him a moment, taking in his words, "Oh... Sorry, I didn't mean to read so much into what you said. It's just..."

She takes a slow breath and he feels a shift in her aura that, while calmer is still clearly uncomfortable and uncertain, but he allows her the time she needs to gather her thoughts.

"I do enjoy time alone," she begins, "and I have spent much of my time that way in the past but a lot of times it was because there weren't many whose company I truly wanted to be in, and those I did... well, many of them apparently didn't feel the same. Often those that did spend time with me seemed to do it because they wanted or expected something from me, not because they honestly wanted my company. I guess I'm just not used to people I like being around, also liking to be around me."

She pauses again as they walk through the gates into the bright day full of the sounds of soldiers training, talking, laughing, and otherwise going about their day. It is a fairly pleasant atmosphere it seems, but the only atmosphere Solas is aware of is that in his immediate vicinity. Not only is he aware of the less than pleasant emotions centered in the woman by his side, but her words have triggered familiar feelings in himself as well.

He is not without his own experiences of the people around him only being there because of the belief or desire for personal gain by doing so. There was one in particular he'd been sure had not among that number. but they had ultimately proven what a fool he'd been. It is a painful memory, one he has not thought of for a long time and he is grateful when she begins speaking again because he has no wish to revisit such memories.

"The people I've met here have been kinder and more supportive than I could have ever dreamed. I've enjoyed everyone's company more than I could have hoped," her feelings seem to lift somewhat as she speaks but her next words are what truly catch his attention. "I suppose it's also pretty obvious that I do spend much of that time with you in particular. You've been an excellent teacher of course, but it isn't just that... I really enjoy talking to you, I enjoy listening to everything you have to say, and I just enjoy your presence. Sometimes, being alone isn't that appealing when I could spend the time with you instead. I don't know... it's like being around you brings me the same relief as being alone without actually having to be alone. But despite all that, I worry that it's all just going to turn out to be an illusion. Maybe it will turn out that the only reason any of you still tolerate me is because of _this_."

She holds up her left hand pointedly, looking at the currently invisible mark.

He watches her, his own thoughts spinning. What she'd said about him, that he brought her the same relief as being alone without having to be alone, it was as if she'd articulated his own feelings that he hadn't even understood until she'd said those words. Those words had elated him but the feeling was lost almost immediately as she clarified her fears, indicating the mark, the curse his magic had left her with, as being the only reason any of them even paid her any attention. He can feel that fear in her now, and he understands.

He knows it is not true, he could list so many things about her that make her worthy of the attention any of their companions offer her. But what if she had never received the mark? Would he have noticed her at all? Would she even be alive? He feels a sudden gratitude that it was she who was marked, and he immediately feels guilty for the feeling. Still he has to acknowledge that, were it not for the Anchor, none of them may have ever known who she was. It is a disturbing thought but he cannot dwell on it now, first he must find a way to tell her, to make her believe that she is so much more than the magic that was forced upon her. He needs to ease the fear that is currently drowning them both in its potency.

"It cannot be denied that the events at the Conclave and the mark you now bear are what placed all of us together in this current situation. That first day upon the mountain, each of us knew with certainty that if we could not ensure your safe arrival at the Breach, doom was all but certain for all of us, and thus we took it upon ourselves to do everything we could to see that you would reach that final goal."

He tells her this truth, in part, because she already knows it, and if he can be honest in this perhaps she will more easily believe what he wants to say next. But he also says it because it is within his power to do so. He lies enough as it is, he must offer as much truth as he can.

"While I cannot deny that without the mark, your path may never have even crossed ours, I can assure you that it is far from being the sole reason any of us have remained at your side through these last weeks. When you awoke upon your return to Haven, the Breach in the sky closed and many dubbing you 'The Herald of Andraste'; you were under no obligation to remain and continue helping this cause, nor would anyone have held it against you if you had made such a choice, considering how ill prepared you were for such responsibility. Yet immediately you focused all your energy upon preparation for the trials ahead. However unprepared you had been, you did what was necessary in order to continue."

He finds himself remembering those days that were so recent, but for the changes he has seen in her they feel as if they could have been ages ago. It is a strange thing to realize how quickly people are able to change in this world. In his, such notable progress would often take years, even decades. She had given so much of her time and energy to these pursuits, and allowed so little distraction. For a people who saw time as all but limitless, it was incredibly rare for anyone to be so focused towards any single goal. Even in this world, he had not witnessed such dedication, though he supposes it is not quite as urgent for the majority. Still, he cannot help but admire her drive, especially as he has grown to understand what motivates her. Where some may seek power or fame, she seems entirely focused on what she can do for those around her. She seems to truly care for all around her, from her companions and advisors, to the general public, to the spirits of the Fade. Her compassion seems to have no limits and it has impressed him time and again to this very day.

"I admit that, initially, I was unable to determine what drove you to accept this duty with such resolve, but it has become clear that you truly do care about the world around you and the people in it and you would protect them in any way you were able," he tells her as a collection of memories pass through his mind. "You promised me as much that first day when you came to my cabin seeking my aid in learning the ways of magic. You stood there, with almost no skill or power and pledged to do whatever was necessary to protect me for no other reason I could determine than because I had helped you. Every kindness that has been shown to you, you have sought to repay with interest, even if it is only in small things. You laugh at Varric's incessant jokes and enjoy his stories, you accept Bryn's punishing instruction with little complaint, you respond patiently to Cassandra's sometimes provocative questions and warnings, and you continue to listen to my endless tales and explanations of magic and the Fade. All of these things and more you have done wholly without guile, accepting all of them with nothing less than sincere appreciation. And upon the battlefield you fight with a ferocity that is hard to reconcile with the Lyara I know outside of it, but I know you do it to keep those around you safe, as much as you do it to survive."

He doesn't catch the slip of her given name until it has already passed his lips. He knows it is too familiar, it is not appropriate for him to address her this way, he has no right. But he feels her reaction, and swallows his apology, continuing on instead.

"None of this has been lost on those around you. It is easy to see what you do and the kind of person you are. Knowing this, who would not wish to be in the company of someone like you? Who could do anything but dream to be among those you would value so highly?" He can tell he is beginning to get carried away now, yet he seems unable to stem the expression of these feelings. Still, he does pause before his next words, "That you would single me out as someone whose company you particularly welcome, is an honor. I will admit that I too very much enjoy yours as well. I had not expected to find someone I could so freely confer with. It has made my time with the Inquisition much... easier than I expected."

Easier, and also more difficult. It is a relief that because of her, he has been accepted by the others, even respected. He is sure her trust in him has made the obstacles he's faced in Haven so few. Still, the conflict she has caused within him is not something he had ever anticipated. He would have thought it impossible had it even been something he'd considered. He had not thought to feel any of what he does now, had not even believed he was even capable of it any longer. He doesn't deserve it, he has no right to it, especially not from her.

And yet her presence beside him is precious, and he cannot bring himself to reject her attentions or disillusion her in her regard for him. It is so unbearably selfish of him, and yet, as he feels the emotions rippling through that presence, it seems unthinkable for him to let it go.

The moment she turns to look at him, he looks to meet the eyes gazing up at him, caught almost immediately in them.

"Thank you," she whispers. "I.... Thank you."

And then he feels the brush of her skin as she places her hand in his. It is somewhat callused from the frequent use of her weapons, but still delicate and the touch is soft, though it sends a tingling sensation all the way up his arm and back down into his stomach. It is such a small thing compared to any previous contact they've had but it somehow feels like so much more and the shock of it paralyzes him for a moment. He feels the small squeeze of her fingers on the heels of another wave of uncertainty, but as he feels her begin to pull away he closes his hand over hers, unwilling to let her go, wanting to keep this feeling, even if just for a few moments longer. Another moment and her hand returns the pressure, sealing their hands into each other's.

He finds he cannot articulate his feelings even to himself. He is so aware of her presence in this moment. The contact itself is of little significance, but for both of them it contains so much more meaning and it is nearly overwhelming. Not only is she physically closer, their arms nearly brushing as they continue to walk slowly along the path, but her aura too, her magic, feels as if it is a hairsbreadth away. He even thinks he can feel her heartbeat, though it may only be his own, pounding as hard as it is. It is a heady and intoxicating feeling and the temptation is strong to stop and turn to face her, to reach out and express this feeling in a more direct fashion. He almost does in fact, but stops himself, reminding himself of what she has only just so recently told him.

She had spoken of people only wishing to be near her out of some wish to use her. She had not specified any specific scenarios but he had gotten the impression there were multiple incidents to have caused such fear and uncertainty in her that she would question every friendship she'd gained within the Inquisition. It is not unreasonable to guess that among such experiences was at least one that was romantic in nature. He represses the anger that threatens to rise at even the idea, but it also helps him to control his other impulses as well.

She has invited nothing more than the connection they currently share. She has offered her time and attention and now she has taken his hand. He knows she has not let anyone else this close since he has known her. He has always had the impression that she is holding back, that there is a well of uncertainty in her, yet he has still managed to earn this much of her trust and he will not break it by acting impulsively.

He breathes slowly and evenly, simply enjoying her presence and closeness beside him, grateful for just the chance to experience these feelings. He knows there is a time limit to them so he must enjoy what he can of them. The world feels different when she is close, more real, more hopeful. He feels as if they might actually succeed, and that he too can succeed.

If only he could find a way to keep her in the world he wishes to rebuild.

It is a sobering thought, but he cannot bear to dwell on it just now, so he reaches for something else to turn his mind in a different direction. "How was the meeting this morning? I take it there was much to discuss upon our return to Haven," he asks, breaking the long silence and hoping to ease them into some conversation.

She tells him about the meeting and her discomfort and restlessness. It surprises him, after all their time together and the solution seems a simple one so he tells her plainly what course of action he suggests.

Somehow she seems almost relieved at his advice. It bothers him that she worries so much about how others perceive her. It seems likely it is also due to the same insecurities she'd voiced earlier, that she worries she will lose their approval if she behaves in some way perceived as inappropriate. It is not an entirely unreasonable concern, they did recruit her specifically for her abilities with the Anchor, but he can feel her frustration in the memories of the meeting. He is certain she will not function well in them unless she is allowed some amount of freedom.

She seems to recognize this too, once he has finished speaking, and thanks him, which he accepts graciously, before they continue along their path. He realizes that, in his concern, his grip on her had tightened without his noticing, but as she increases the pressure to show her thanks for his advice, he returns the gesture before consciously relaxing his hand into a more comfortable grip again.

Their walk continues in a kind of haze for him. It isn't that he isn't fully attentive as they continue to converse about many things while they walk, he takes in every word, but ultimately none of the topics are of particular importance, they are simply enjoying each other's company, and for him it is enough just to be close to her, to hear her voice and sometimes her laughter. She seems to be smiling almost every time he looks at her now, and he feels a certain lightness in his own expression that he rarely allows in himself, and he doubts he could stop it even should he wish it.

However, it seems as if little time has passed by the time he notices they are drawing close to Haven again, the sounds of the camp just starting to reach his ears even though it is still beyond their view.

It is not much longer before they can see the shapes of the tents and distant figures moving among them. They say nothing but they both know their walk is at an end and in unspoken agreement both of their hands tighten around each other before finally, and regretfully, letting go.

He almost feels cold at the sudden loss, as if he'd been standing next to a fire on a cold night and then stepped away from it. The fire is still there, burning brightly, he can see her, feel her, still at his side, but the distance feels so much further now.

As the noise and activity surround them again he tries to let it distract him. He tries to bring himself back to the reality before him.

As they walk back through the gates of Haven, she turns to him, "Why don't we get something to eat at the tavern, I'm starting to get hungry."

His reply comes out before he even truly considers the invitation, "That seems a reasonable suggestion, I would be happy to accompany you."

He doesn't bother to reconsider. He is not ready to be without her presence just yet and this is an easy and convenient excuse for both of them.

He does somewhat question this decision when he sees both Varric and Bryn at the back table where Lavellan immediately heads. Of course, he should have remembered Varric would be here, the man hardly ever seems to be anywhere else, as far as he's noticed.

"Well look who it is," the dwarf greets them warmly, "nice of you two to join us and grace us with your presence. Don't tell me you two were having another one of your marathon lessons. Even Lightning here gave you the day off, it would be horribly unfair of Chuckles to make you work."

Fortunately, he does not need to say anything. Lavellan seems more than content to deal with the overly inquisitive man. He continues to listen as the two talk, Varric clearly trying to tease her while she effectively sidesteps these efforts.

The rest of the evening passes normally enough, and he does his best to maintain focus on the conversation at large rather than only her, though as usual, he keeps his own participation to a minimum. She never seems to mind this habit of his and still makes sure to include him in the conversation, looking his way periodically as she speaks.

Eventually the night does come to an end and their small group parts ways for the evening. When he finally gets back to his cabin the emptiness of it seems that much emptier somehow. He had grown quite accustomed to being alone. Even well before he had entered his long slumber, he had accepted a certain isolation as a result of his position and role. It had been a very very long time since he'd let anyone so close and the desire to be even closer to her is undeniable anymore.

He feels lost. It is a mistake, he knows this, he's known it all along, and yet he cannot seem to stop himself.

He can't think. Too many thoughts of her still swim through his mind: her voice, her smile, her warm, delicate hand in his, and the seemingly endless list of less tangible things that never fail to astound him. He cannot even begin to think logically right now, so he decides to finally give in to a temptation he's avoided for some time, but which he knows might help him quiet some of the turmoil inside.

He walks over to the corner bookshelf, and pulls out an unremarkable volume from amongst a number of more impressive tomes. He picks up a small box from the shelf as well and carries them over to his table. He sits and opens the cover, flipping past a number of sketches of various plants and some of the architecture and landscape around Haven, until he comes to a blank page. He then opens the box and selects a piece of charcoal from within.

He ponders the blank space for a moment, before setting the charcoal to its lightly textured surface. He selects one of the images in his head and begins to draw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! I know this is a chapter some of you were waiting for and I hope it lives up to expectations.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, hope you have a great week!!


	14. Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to "Reality Dreaming" chapters 33-35

He has nearly forgotten his agreement with Bryn the day before until he hears the knock on his door.

It comes as a slight shock, as there are few besides Lavellan who ever come to visit him, but after a moment's thought he realizes who it must be.

He walks over to the door and opens it, wordlessly gesturing the woman to enter, then closing it behind her.

He doesn't waste any time getting to the point, "So, what exactly is it you would like me to do?"

Bryn seems to take no offense at the lack of niceties and answers him directly. "Once she has come down to the training area, probably sometime after the lunch hour, I'll have someone let you know of the lesson's start. Since this is the first lesson, it would probably be best if you were nearby to monitor for most of it. Once you feel she is nearing the end of her patience, you just approach as if you are waiting to meet her for your magic lesson. I will finish off the lesson and she will be free to go with you. We should be able to get a better idea of how long it will take for her to reach this point each day so you won't have to be close the entire time. Does that sound reasonable?"

He thinks a moment before nodding, "Yes, that should be fine. If I have further concerns or questions later I will let you know."

"Of course," she accepts. "Like I said, we'll probably start in the early afternoon sometime, I'll send word." She then heads back to the door and lets herself out without another word, closing it behind her.

He still has his doubts about this plan but he thinks Bryn does have the best of intentions and it should not be any more dangerous than any other of their previous training sessions. Even so, it makes him uneasy.

 

As it turns out Bryn's predictions are quite accurate. He feel's Lavellan's frustrations rise throughout the lessons in a familiar way as she struggles against the opponents she faces. However, he probably spends more time monitoring these lessons than is strictly necessary, after the first few days. It doesn't take long before he and Bryn have discerned the pattern in how her state of mind tends to progress in this repeated scenario, making continual monitoring unnecessary, yet he still finds he is unable to stay away for long. He still worries.

He worries that she might just snap one day and give up in the middle of a lesson rather than stick it out. Each day that passes, fortunately proves his worries wrong, granting him temporary relief until the next day.

As he approaches the training area each day, he tries to project a calming aura. He thinks she is slowly becoming more sensitive to what he feels and he does what he can to take advantage of this. It seems to work, helping her to maintain some amount of equilibrium as she finishes her lesson.

The aftermath of the lessons becomes progressively worse as the days go by however. At first she manages to shake off her frustrations fairly quickly, and focus on magic right away. Before long though, she is having to take more and more time to walk off her frustrations enough to even be able to look at him properly. It pains him to see her this way. He knows none of what she is feeling is directed at him, in fact he has sensed that she is grateful for his presence once she calms down, but he cannot help questioning whether this is worth it.

He sometimes considers telling Lavellan to demand a change, fairly certain she would give weight to his opinion, or going to Bryn himself and insisting she find another way, but every day Lavellan heads back to that training circle with determination and a certain amount of stubbornness. And through all the angry frustration she works through afterwards, she never voices a desire to quit, and so he too keeps his peace.

Even so, he does everything he can to help her get through it. He designs his lessons to bring her back down in a controlled manner. He teaches her new staff techniques that will allow her to channel the energy and aggression, built up by her frustrations, into the powerful movements. Once she has cooled down enough to focus on spellcasting, they move to offensive magic, followed by defensive, and finishing with the comparatively boring practical techniques, by which time she seems back to her usual self again.

In the evenings, he encourages her to do whatever will allow her to enjoy the free time she has, be it cards with Varric, or simply reading in her room. Sometimes they spend the evening together. It is not unusual for them to share the evening meal, but more special is when they spend the evening reading together.

She seems to favor reading on a thick rug by the fire, sometimes propped up by a few cushions. She has one in her cabin and manages to get a second for his so she can read there comfortably as well. He generally sits at a table to read but sometimes he will sit next to her on the rug if she wants to discuss some point or other.

The moments are comfortable for them both as they simply enjoy each other's presence, the peace of being alone without actually being alone. Even the hours that pass when neither of them speak, are nothing short of perfect. He even finds he is often able to concentrate better when she is near.

The one thing neither of them does, however, is touch the other, and they both seem careful to keep a little extra distance between each other, like a small reminder to themselves. There is a temptation, of course, but he feels as if giving in to it would somehow break the sense of tranquility between them, as if dropping a stone into a perfectly still pond. For now, they both seem content to let that pond enjoy its perfect peace.

When he is not around her, he does what he can to keep himself busy. He reads and works on his own research projects, gathers herbs, aids in preparing potions or healing those who are wounded. He even works with a few of the younger mages who have joined them, whose skills are still limited and whose masters are gone or dead.

He hears of the arrival of Sera when it seems to cause some commotion. The rumors concern him but when he asks Lavellan she merely seems amused by the whole thing while she describes the strange elf's appearance in the War Room.

He finds out about the Enchantress' arrival when the messenger notifies her after one of their lessons and it is clear that this arrival makes Lavellan a little more uneasy, though not actually worried.

He does not meet either of these women, however, so their arrival otherwise has little effect on him.

There is the conversation with Lavellan that Lady Vivienne's arrival prompts though, regarding a mage's affinity to certain elements.

"So what does it say about a personality if one's affinity is fire?" Lavellan asks him after he admits the reason he had started her with that particular element.

He sees the curiosity in her eyes, and the sly smile she gives him and he finds himself being more honest with her than perhaps is wise. "Such things can vary depending on the person. Some might be hotheaded or impulsive," he tells her in his customary fashion when teaching, not looking at her. "It is clear that you are neither of these things, however. Your fire is not one that burns fervently and fleetingly on the surface," he tells her, as he thinks of her and remembers how she has faced the challenges around her, "You possess a fire of deep passion, it fuels your actions and gives you strength. It is a fire that may burn hot to push you through the darkest hours, or remain an ember that lies in wait, but which adds a spark visible to any with the vision to discern it. It is a fire that is difficult to extinguish and lights a path for all those wise enough to follow."

He feels the mixed stream of emotions that his words seem to prompt. Her reaction is strong enough to raise a noticeable flush to her face and he starts to wonder if she is able to read some of his own emotions. Can she tell just how compelling he finds the fire he has just described, how it seems to light a flame in him? He knew she would likely develop greater sensitivity over time, though he has never been sure just how much is likely. He also thought it would take longer. He will have to be more mindful of his feelings in the future. She might notice if he blocked her out completely, but there are some things it is better for her to be unaware of.

Despite these worries, he cannot help a stirring in himself at her reaction, which through the fluster of confusion does seem to be generally pleased.

"That... thank you, ...that's very nice of you to say," she finally says after several moments working through her internal struggle.

She turns then to meet his eyes that had been fixated on her, and the moment their gazes lock, he becomes transfixed, lost in the beautiful mystery standing before him. Time feels as if it has stopped and he cannot move for fear of breaking the moment.

But as all such moments must, it passes and the world comes rushing back in in all its solid reality. It is almost a shock to remember what is around them and to see the quickly approaching gates of Haven surrounded by soldiers.

He scrambles to regain his grip on this reality, trying to recall what they had been talking about. The enchantress, that was it.

"Would you like me to accompany you when you go to meet the enchantress?" he asks, trying to return them to the easy conversation of before.

After a slight start at the sound of his voice intruding on her own thoughts, she warmly declines his offer, though he is amused by her reasons. She seems to be thinking more in line with the political manipulations that are sure to be required of her if she maintains this role. He is not afraid of her becoming a true politician, but she will need some skills for the position she has been placed in, and he feels a sort of pride in seeing her demonstrate these budding capabilities.

She leaves him with an almost promise of seeing him later that evening and he watches as she walks away towards the Chantry.

He looks forward to seeing her later.

 

***

 

Eventually, a day is decided for their next departure from Haven. He's suspected it would not be much longer, even hoped for it. Lavellan's announcement of their departure comes as little surprise after Bryn having been to see him earlier. Bryn had thanked him for his efforts the past weeks and told him he would not need to monitor the training sessions any longer, but that he could still come down to the training circle to meet her for their magic lesson around the usual time.

This clearly meant that the course Bryn had set up with his help, was finished, and for that he is truly relieved. He wonders what she has planned for the next phase of training and even considers going down to the training ring to see for himself, but eventually decides against it. He does not want to be a distraction.

When he finally heads down to the training grounds at the usual time, he can tell things are different. None of the tension of the past weeks is present now. In it's place he senses calm and confidence. A few young soldiers are leaving the circle as he approaches and he sees the two women in the first companionable conversation he has witnessed since this whole course began. He lets out a slow easy breath as a little more of the tension leaves him.

Bryn leaves and Lavellan turns to him, smiling in greeting. It is a welcome sight and only adds to his sense of relief so that he cannot help but offer a slight smile in return.

"Are you ready to go," he asks.

"I am," she answers cheerfully.

They head out in their usual direction, but unlike the previous weeks, they move at a relaxed pace and there is nothing but calm in the air as they proceed. She tells him of their planned departure, and again asks him if he will join them, which he assures her he will.

The magic lesson too, progresses without any real tension. He returns her to more relaxed staff exercises and gives more focus to detail work regarding her spellcasting. Through it all she remains focused and calm. He is curious as to exactly what has brought the change about, Bryn had neglected to inform him of the final stage of her plan, but for today he decides not to ask. For today he will simply enjoy seeing her in such good spirits again. Perhaps he will ask tomorrow instead.

 

On their final day in Haven, he decides to keep the lesson fairly short, simply reviewing and practicing what they have spent the last few weeks working on. The last two days had him confident in her abilities already, but a final quick run though of everything certainly won't hurt.

When they are finished he prepares to suggest that she rest for the remainder of the day, but when he looks over and meets her eyes, a warm smile on her face, his words stall.

"Why don't we take the long way back?" she asks, a hint of nervousness behind her words.

He feels his pulse quicken as he remembers the last walk they took. He isn't sure it's a good idea... but he had promised her another walk that they had never gotten around to taking. And the weather is undoubtedly pleasant, frequent light rain and clouds showing now sign of making another appearance today.

"As you wish," he finally answers, taking a step forward as she begins to move towards the path. He catches up with her in a few strides and they walk side by side in silence for some time.

She is calm now, it is the calm she gives off when she is thinking. At one time, he may have hesitated to knowingly break into her thoughts, but he had done so often enough before he understood the meaning of this particular calm, and she has never seemed displeased at his interruption, so he decides to initiate some conversation.

"Are you ready to depart tomorrow?" he begins casually.

It takes her a little time to answer, she still seems fairly deep in thought, though he knows she heard his question.

While he waits, he notices that she seems to be letting her body drift just ever so slightly closer, closing the extra distance they had silently agreed to maintain between them. It is such a small shift, in reality, but he cannot help but be distinctly aware of the change in proximity.

"I think I am," she finally answers. "I feel a lot more ready than I did the last time we headed out to the Hinterlands. It's hard for me to believe how far I've come in what really is quite a short time."

"You have worked very hard and your progress is a testament to that," he tells her earnestly.

"I've also had really good teachers," she says in return, "Seriously, I don't think I could have asked for better. You and Bryn deserve your fair share of credit too." She looks over at him and meets his eyes, a soft smile on her lips

"A teacher is only as good as their student, you have been remarkably open to the lessons we have had to teach, and allowed us to push you to your limits so that you might go beyond them. I believe there are few who would be so willing to place as much trust in their teachers as you have," he insists.

It is true, and it is among the many things that he has always found impressive and curious about her. He understands her motivation to work so hard, her deep desire to protect those around her as fiercely as they protect her. But the level of trust she has been willing to put in those around her, almost from the outset, still puzzles him. That she could allow strangers to have such control over her actions and offer so little complaint or resistance. The way she had come to him so soon after reawakening, to seek his expertise in magic, and how she was immediately open to whatever he offered her. Was it simply due to a lack of options and her immediate need? Perhaps that was part of it, but even so, he would have expected more reserve and skepticism early on.

"I guess I have put a lot of trust in you, in everyone," she concedes, "It certainly isn't something I normally do, but everything that's happened from the Conclave to now has been so far from normal for me, almost nothing about it bears any resemblance to my previous life." She pauses slightly and he waits for her to continue, "You guys helped me right from the beginning, you had my back and supported me every day since; and I desperately needed that support, without it I could never have even survived. I guess I knew I needed to take that risk and put faith in someone else for once if I had any hope to continue surviving. I guess the gamble paid off."

He listens to her explanation, remembering their meeting, that first day as they'd fought their way towards the Breach, how she'd pushed forward through all the fear and confusion. He can feel she is remembering it as well. At the time, he'd thought only of their goal, of assuring her safe arrival at the Breach in order to close it, for him it had been the only thing that mattered. But for her, their efforts on her behalf had meant more. He remembers what she told him on their last walk, how she had often been used and discarded, and the fears it would happen again. She must have had these fears from the start and yet, for some reason, she made the choice to put her faith in them.

This realization brings with it a new wave of shame for his initial attitude towards her. He'd had no intention of abandoning her, but that had not been for her sake. Now though, his view is completely different in ways he never could have predicted. Even though what she represents, what she can do, is still essential to achieving his goals, those things have nothing to do with why he is standing by her side at this moment.

Now he is here because there is no place anywhere in this world he would prefer to be.

With hardly a thought, he shifts even closer to her side, letting his hand fall close to hers, brushing it softly with his fingertips, inviting, but in no way insisting.

She starts out of her thoughts at the initial contact, but only a moment later he feels her hand slip into his and it sends an almost electric current through him, but it is warmer, sweeter, than any true electricity.

He is pleased to notice that she too seems to equally enjoy the contact.

He slowly strokes his thumb against the skin beneath, as he finally broaches the subject of her lessons with Bryn.

What she tells him ultimately supports everything Bryn claimed she was trying to do. He had not been able to shake his doubts regarding her methods from the start, but now he can see that Bryn was indeed right, and her efforts were successful. It is a great relief to hear her words confirm all this. If Lavellan had been adversely affected, while he had actively participated in this course.... Well, he is very glad it seems to have all worked out exactly as it had been intended to.

Once she finishes explaining about training the soldiers and her revelations regarding her increasing skill, he considers how he should respond, how much to tell her. He debates revealing his own part in things, and knows he really should tell her, but he still hasn't revealed just how much he is able to sense from her and is still unsure how she would take it. Would she see it as a breach of her privacy? Would it cause her to lose trust in him? Yet if he continues to hide this truth, could that not also cause her to lose trust?

He will have to tell her at some point. Even if he doesn't, it seems more than likely she will figure it out herself eventually. But perhaps he won't tell her just yet, not today. A better time will surely present itself. After the time that has already passed, surely a little longer cannot be much worse.

And so he tells her about his concerns over her weeks of training, but he does not reveal his role in it.

He also expresses what has particularly impressed him through these last weeks, "I admire the amount of control you have demonstrated. I have to wonder what has allowed you attain this level of command over your own emotions and reactions."

It truly is remarkable to him, how one who has lived so short a time has been able to achieve the level of mastery over her own emotions that she has. He has felt her emotions since that first day and he knows them to be as powerful as anyone's, sometimes perhaps even more so, but she never seems to let them rule her. He is sure she has her limits, of course, he's only spent the last few weeks making sure they were not crossed after all, but those limits seem to go well beyond any he has yet witnessed in this world, and even beyond many in his own. As he'd gotten older himself, he'd found it dismaying how a number of his peers did not even attempt to master their own emotions or impulses. He had been just as bad in his early life, and it had taken a few centuries for him to truly find a better balance, but some among the People never seemed to care, despite being an age well beyond his own. He'd long since prided himself on his own level of control, but to see what she had achieved in such a brief life is truly humbling.

It is also yet another mystery about her, and he waits patiently as she prepares her response.

He feels her aura, go calm as she sinks into her own thoughts and memories, but it is not quite the meditative stillness he has grown used to, there is emotion beneath the calm, like a deep but powerful current beneath a large body of water.

Finally she begins to speak, taking her time and letting thought coalesce into careful words, "Losing control over myself and my actions is one of my greatest fears I think. There are many times I've seen what happens when people let their emotions - anger, fear, pain - just take over completely, causing people to react solely based on these feelings, and I don't think I've witnessed a single instance where the results of it were good, they are always such naturally destructive things when left on their own. In the aftermath, sometimes the pieces can be picked up and what was broken can be repaired, but often cracks remain and pieces are lost. Other times, the damage is irreparable and valuable things are lost forever. Even with some control it is so easy to unintentionally cause harm."

He admires her perceptiveness, but also wonders just what she has seen or experienced to make her so aware of these unfortunate truths. What she tells him next, however, only astounds him even more.

She begins her story simply, of a childhood effort to construct a doll and failure to fashion it to her intended specifications. It is interesting trying to imagine her as a young child, wondering what kind of child she was, how she'd interacted with the world around her then. She gives a small laugh as she describes her own frustrations at her failure and the outburst her anger causes. He too almost laughs at the image of a small Lyara biting a doll's head in childhood anger, but he takes note of the emotions in her aura, and it is apparent that such a reaction would not be appropriate at this moment.

Then she tells of her guilt. It was only a doll, merely cloth and string by her own description, and yet she felt as if she'd done a horrible thing in her treatment of it. She continues with unguarded honesty in how she felt next as her emotions at the time had threatened to overtake her, as she'd faced the desire to commit yet further destruction.

Then she falls quiet and he can tell she's remembering the event, likely studying each moment in her memory. He is eager to hear the outcome, to know what the child in this memory did next, but he waits patiently for her to be ready to tell him.

The silence stretches but finally her voice returns, words intoned in an almost hypnotic fashion, not flat yet very controlled. The currents of her aura, on the other hand, tell a much deeper tale.

"It was that moment, as I peered over the edge into my own overwrought emotions and saw what they wanted, that I realized exactly what was happening and what would happen if I took that final step and let them take over." Her voice is low, but he can hear every word as he gives her every bit of his attention. "Every act of destruction I committed only added to the mess inside, feeding it, making it stronger, only to wreak more destruction. It was a horrible vicious circle and in that moment I could imagine it consuming me completely, turning me into some kind of monster. That vision was so horrifying I immediately fought to rein myself in, holding myself still as I fought with my anger and tried to bring it back down. I think I cried as I sat there fighting the anger inside along with the fear of that anger. Finally, I did calm down and went to retrieve the poor doll, holding it close and promising it only love from that moment, feeling like I had to apologize for how I had treated it. I kept that doll for many years, and it became beautiful to me, smeared face and all. It was a reminder to me."

As he watches her now, he feels her begin to emerge from that deep thoughtful state, but it seems she is not quite finished.

"I was very young but the fear was real," she says solemnly, "and the fear of those moments has stayed with me ever since then and I do my best to avoid those kinds of emotion, especially anger. Whenever I do feel these emotions rise in me, I do everything I can to control them. I try not to hold them in, that can be just as dangerous in the long run, but I do my best to find safer, controlled ways of expressing them or dispelling them. Fortunately, it takes quite a lot to really upset or aggravate me anymore. I do have to commend Bryn on her ability to pull off such a feat as well."

She gives a small smile and a slight shake of her head as she reaches her conclusion, followed by another long silence stretching between them as they both mull over what she has just told him.

For a long time he can think of no words to follow hers. It seems unbelievable to him that as a child she had faced and overcome such basic impulses. Even for adults beginning to desire control, it can take years of effort and practice to begin effectively learning the control she seems to have mastered. How strong had that fear she mentioned been, to have had such a profound effect? Had it been caused by some experience she'd had or was she simply that perceptive? In either case, how had she managed to maintain such control throughout her life since then? She said it takes a lot to affect her now, but had there been instances when she had crossed that line, when it had been too much?

He considers asking that last question, but changes his mind a moment later. The memories have left them both rather subdued and he doesn't wish to subject her to even more painful memories, when it clearly is not necessary to do so.

He diverts some of his attention back to the world around them, the clear sky and soft breeze; the small warm hand still comfortably ensconced in his own; the familiar aura beside his and the presence it represents. It is a beautiful day, and they have the luxury of spending it in each other's presence. The situation deserves some more hopeful or pleasant topic of conversation. At the same time, he must acknowledge what she has told him. They are both patient and know when to give each other time to organize their thoughts, but eventually he must say something, no matter how grossly insufficient it may seem to him.

Finally he decides on something to say, "It is most impressive how you have successfully achieved such mastery over negative emotions that might lead to destructive behaviors, I think very few could make such a similar claim." It is a terrible understatement, but he can think of no other words that can contain his true reaction that does not involve considerably more words including a number of stories he would never be able to convincingly attribute to what he has seen in the Fade. No, he must settle for simple compliments that, however sincere, still sound trite to his ears.

"But what of other positive emotions?" he asks, hoping to steer the conversation towards less unpleasant thoughts. "Do you maintain similar control over happiness, hope, or love?"

In truth his intentions in asking this are mixed. He hopes the topic will lead in a more positive direction, but it is also something he is genuinely curious about. As he has learned control over his own feelings, he has found that he has allowed himself little happiness. He is not sure if this is due only to the circumstances he has had to face, or that he simply will not allow it of himself anymore. He knows his resistance to many of his current feelings are, in part, for her protection, and in part to protect the outcome of his efforts towards restoring his people. Beyond that however, he wonders how much is simply fear? He wonders too, if he would be capable of allowing himself some happiness even without such considerations. Cannot such feelings also be destructive? Love especially can lead to negligence of duty, or be a distraction that can impair judgment, leading to ill-considered actions that could then lead to disastrous consequences. He wonders, what her take is on such things might be, and if she has had any similar thoughts.

"I'm not really sure," she starts with a soft sigh. "Sometimes I feel the control I've built up has made it harder for me to feel the good emotions as strongly as I might; that by keeping such tight reign on the bad has also not allowed me to experience the good as freely either, but there are other possibilities too. There have been fewer occasions for such feelings in my life.... Plus, too many of those instances only led me to more of the pain. I think I can be pretty mistrustful and cautious with happiness, afraid it's just a trick and if I let down my guard it's just going to hurt more in the end. I know I shouldn't be, but it is hard to let go of that kind of fear, especially when it has so often been backed up by experience."

With her words comes the familiar swirl of emotion triggered by the emergence of a new flood of her memories. And these memories are far from the pleasant ones he'd have preferred and are instead accompanied by pain and sadness. He wants to berate himself for having caused this, but at the same time, he is still caught in her words. They have an all too familiar ring to them. The times he had let himself be happy only to find it was based only on lies, or simply didn't last. It makes him sad. He is not so much concerned for himself though, it is disheartening to know that with all the similarities between them, this has to be among them.

"I believe I understand," he tells her finally, through a melancholy he does his best to withhold from her senses. "It seems this ability serves you well in many instances, but I do hope you will find happiness as well and feel free to embrace it fully."

He makes the wish for her that he does not dare to make for himself. He deserves no such happiness, but since knowing her, he has only wished to see her smiling.

And she does smile then.

More surprising is the transformation her emotions now seem to go through, shifting away from her own sadness to something progressively lighter.

"Thank you, I hope so too," she tells him, still smiling. "Though, despite all that has happened since the Conclave, I have found more pleasant moments than I had expected."

She looks up at him then, showing him that smile, brilliant and bright as the sun shining through the dark clouds that have claimed him.

"Right now, for example, is very pleasant," she tells him, smile widening before she leans over and bumps her arm against his and squeezes his hand, further shaking him free of his darker thoughts. "At this moment, I feel at peace. I'm out here on a beautiful day, with someone who's company I enjoy, and for this moment all the craziness and horror feels like it is in another world altogether. And right now, it can stay there. The moment will pass and everything else will return again, new problems will arrive, but this is why I do any of it, for moments like these; not only for myself but for others as well. That's what life is, right? There's always something, some problem, some trial, but every now and then we can take a break and just enjoy a few moments of sweetness that makes it all worth it."

She is genuine in her words, in the emotions she now radiates, and the sadness seems fully dispersed like morning mist in the sun. It fills him with wonder. She is stronger in this way than he thinks he could ever be. She knows pain enough to overwhelm the average person, but not only does she hold herself up under the weight of it, she can set the weight aside and live free of it, while allowing only the good to have any substance, if only for a few moments, before she must shoulder it again.

He thinks he could never do the same.

And that she struggles so determinedly so that others too might have the opportunity to do so as well...

He watches as a tear falls and trails down her cheek. All the sadness is gone, but the power of the emotion in her now is no less strong for that. She is moved, and he is captivated by her.

"Ugh, listen to me, this probably all sounds so ridiculous," she laughs in embarrassment.

But he is not about to let her regret this, it is too beautiful to think that anything she has said is in any way lacking in value.

"It is not ridiculous," he tells her softly, as he moves around her to face her directly, "it is a worthy goal; one which I believe too many forget is of value." Himself included, he thinks.

She finally looks up and meets his eyes and he offers her a small smile in return, letting his gaze get lost in the brilliant silver of her eyes, "This is a pleasant moment for me as well, one of many I have been privileged to share with you, and I thank you for the opportunity."

No, perhaps he could never have been able to set his own burdens aside to allow in the small moments of peace and happiness that life offered, even in this world, but where he fails, she always seems to succeed. She has pushed away all the clouds now and he sees only the brilliance before him.

He reaches out the hand not holding hers out, and brushes away the stray tear with a soft stroke of his thumb, savoring the gentle caress of his skin against hers before letting his hand lightly cradle her jaw and cheek. She remains still, beneath his touch, as he reveres her and all that knowing her has given him. The stillness might have worried him but for the feeling of her aura, and the almost imperceptible movement of her head as it leans ever so slightly into his touch.

He wishes he could kiss her, but her own hesitation reaffirms that it is a line he should not cross. He shouldn't for so many other reasons as well, but it is only this one that seems to hold much power for him any more.

Instead he lifts the hand holding hers, bringing her smaller one upwards until he can lay light press of lips to the back of it. He sees her eyes widen at the action, can almost feel the quickening of her heartbeat. It is all he can do to slowly let their hands return to their side, before running the fingers of the hand on her face downward, tracing its shape with his fingertips all the way to her chin before finally pulling his hand away.

Their eyes are still locked onto each other's, and he watches as her mouth struggles to produce words.

"You're welcome," she whispers, in answer to his words. Her aura answers his actions.

He can only look at her as if she is the only thing that exists.

He isn't sure how they start moving again, returning to their path and slow pace, still connected, grip tighter than it was.

He feels dazed as his legs carry him forward automatically. Every time, it feels as if he becomes a little more lost when he is with her. And yet, it is only with her that he feels the possibility of being found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another delay. I didn't have power on the day I usually update and then the next days were busy with work. I was determined to get this up for you so I finished up my editing while fighting off sleep, sorry for any mistakes and feel free to let me know if I missed anything glaring.
> 
> I hope you guys have a great day! Thank you all for reading!!


	15. Considerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to the end of Ch.35 to the beginning of Ch.36

After the intimate moment, it takes them both some time to find their equilibrium again.

It amazes him how strongly she too seems to be affected by his own presence, words, and actions. He cannot imagine what she sees in him that would merit such attention. It would all be so much easier if she did not respond to him so well. Her reactions only serve to intensify his own and that is not what he needs right now.

He can tell she is struggling now, feelings whirling, but he is too occupied by his own struggle and he cannot focus on any of the details of hers.

It takes a few long minutes but eventually he feels they are both regaining some composure. After another couple of minutes he decides to try conversation again; a strategy which has helped in the past whenever they needed to return to more relaxed interactions.

He decides on a topic he has been curious about for some time but has hesitated bringing up. However, he feels he knows her well enough now that he thinks it is relatively safe to bring it up, as long as he is careful in his approach and responses to whatever she tells him.

"If you don't mind a change of subject, I wondered if I might ask you a question," he says, speaking casually as if they were already in the middle of any of their usual conversations.

"You can certainly ask, though I suppose whether I can answer depends on what kind of question it is," she answers almost equally as casual, except for the curiosity in her voice. He can almost hear the small smile that accompanies her words but he is careful not to look her way to see it.

He begins, speaking calmly but seriously, as if it were any of their other, more academic, discussions, "One of the aspects about you I have often found most curious is how different you are from other Dalish elves I have encountered. From what I have seen, their beliefs in various gods, such as Mythal, Andruil, or Fen'Harel, is central to the culture. Yet in all our conversations you make no mention of them, therefore I am curious as to what your beliefs actually are on the subject. I suppose I am simply interested to know what your thoughts are on Dalish beliefs in general and the Elvhen pantheon in particular?"

She seems somewhat surprised at the question, and perhaps even a little amused. He supposes the topic does seem rather out of the blue, and incongruous to what has come before it. He had also intended to avoid speaking his other name, but in the end he decided to add it. It has become quite infamous in the romanticized tales the Dalish cling to, and stands out from the others of the pantheon. He can't help wondering if she will react to the figure it represents differently from the others.

"Well, I have expressed that I have always felt a kind of disconnect from my family and the people I was raised around," she begins, "With that came a questioning of their beliefs. I thought the stories interesting but I'm afraid religion of any kind is not something that has really made a lot of sense to me personally. As for the gods themselves, it's hard to say." She pauses a moment to organize her thoughts before continuing, "I don't feel like I really know enough to be able to say I believe anything in particular other than I believe that they probably did exist in some kind of historical context, but have not been present in the lives of elves as anything more than stories for a very long time. Why do you ask? Are my beliefs on the subject important? I was under the impression you didn't hold such beliefs in high esteem anyway."

Despite everything he knows about her, he cannot help his surprise at the almost noncommittal answer, though what _had_ he expected? He finds her answer confusing, though he is not quite sure why.

He proceeds, but is careful to keep his tone even, and his mind calm, no longer knowing what he hopes to achieve with the conversation. "It is true, I do not approve of the ways and beliefs of the Dalish, I suppose I have made that clear often enough. Even so, I recognize that it is part of your background and I wish to know more about you. As I said, I have noticed that you do not seem to hold many of the same views as other Dalish and I find this pleasantly surprising and yet undeniably puzzling, it has long piqued my curiosity. You say you don't know enough but surely you have heard many stories," he presses.

And she answers.

"Of course, I have heard many stories, of these gods, and many other things besides," she begins.

She then proceeds to lecture him on the nature of stories. No, lecture is not quite what she does, and yet it feels like a lesson as she tells him things he knows and yet it still surprises him to hear someone else explain it. He knows how stories work, of course, he has seen it countless times, even in his own time, but somehow hearing her say it, it seems to make more sense, at least where the Dalish are concerned.

From stories she move on to talk about religion and the associated beliefs, getting more and more worked up as she goes, not quite angry, but still passionate, culminating in her shaking a fist in the air as she squeezes his hand more tightly, a gesture he is all too happy to mirror. In the end she laughs at herself, and relaxes again.

He cannot help looking at her this time, watching her expressions and gestures as she tells him about her frustrations with the world.

He is surprised by her yet again, and he knows he shouldn't be. Everything he knows of her should have made it obvious she would respond in the manner she has. He does not know why he continues to expect any different. It's as if he just doesn't want to let himself believe she is real, and maybe that is it exactly. She seems too good to be true and some part of him seems determined to prove it, but every time she only proves to be exactly what she seems.

For the first time he seriously wonders what she would think if he _were_ to tell her the truth. It can never happen of course, but what if he did? Would she approach the knowledge with the same calm and clarity that she has everything else? Would she understand what it meant? He wishes there were some way he could learn the answers to these questions, besides the obvious, but he would have to be satisfied in never knowing.

"You never cease to amaze me," he tells her, though he feels like he's said it too many times already, "Your clarity of vision is beyond any I have yet to encounter. If anyone deserves to find the truth one day, it is you."

She deserves to know, but he can never tell her, because she also deserves so much better.

Still she seems pleased with his praise, and for the moment it is enough.

"Well, I hope that satisfied your curiosity for the time being," she says with a smile, "Though, I feel like I've been doing most of the talking lately, perhaps you will do me the courtesy of returning the favor. You tell me endless tales of what you have seen in the Fade: lore and history, and you have taught me much of magic but I find myself just as curious about who _you_ are as you find me."

He can feel the nervous flutter beneath her words and he feels ashamed that she would feel uncomfortable in asking about him as freely as he does about her. It is true that he has more he must keep from her than he would like, but she should not feel any fear to seek any knowledge from him. Still, he is not sure what he could offer about himself that might satisfy her wish to know more. He will have to think on the matter, but he is sure he can find something appropriate, given a little time.

"You are right," he answers after a few moments, "it is only fair, and I promise to reciprocate the favor. However, this is not the time nor place so I beg your indulgence to have a bit more patience." He tilts his head slightly to indicate their approaching arrival back at Haven, a blessedly convenient excuse to delay his need to fulfill her request.

"You know, we could always just turn around and go back the other way again," she says, shifting her body slightly as if to turn around.

He is not proud of his panic in that moment. Her actions simply catch him a little too suddenly by surprise, and he is unable to control his reaction appropriately.

While he cherishes every moment he has with her, he is fairly certain that spending much more time together today would be unwise, even if it didn't mean he would have to come up with something new to tell her about himself, which he feels completely unprepared to do. Still, he should have dealt with it better.

She only laughs though, the bright sound calming him slightly. "Alright, I'll let you off the hook this time, but I'm going to hold you to that promise," she tells him.

"Of that I have no doubt," he says, shaking his head and gladly following the gentle tug forward from her hand.

 

It isn't long before they must let go of their hold on each other again though, and it is no less difficult than it had been the first time. He would much rather pull her in towards him. Wrap his arms around her, and pull her even closer...

But he lets go, taking a deep breath, as he feels empty air across his palm again.

They continue to close on Haven and she brings them back to the topic of their departure the next day, reminding him that the strange new elf, Sera, would also be joining their party.

He had been uncertain what to think of this new development when he first heard of it, and what he has heard of the woman concerns him slightly. However, he has only had the one encounter with her and therefore has had little opportunity to make his own judgments on the matter.

"Yes, I had heard she would be joining our party," he tells her. "I have not spoken with her since her arrival in Haven. If I remember correctly, she had a rather unconventional manner. Do you expect she will cause any difficulty?"

"It's been just the five of us for a while now," Lavellan says, "and we've gotten pretty comfortable in our dynamic as a team, so I think any new addition will mean some level of adjustment."

She gives a slight sigh then and he detects a hint of uncertainty in her as well. Before he can wonder at this, she is already explaining her feelings, "To be honest, I'm not sure exactly what to expect from Sera, she has a distinct personality that will probably take some getting used to, but she also has a rather unique outlook on things, which might prove useful, or at least interesting."

He is not sure he understands her reasoning in allowing this new addition into their group. Clearly she has some misgivings as to this person's character or behavior, but she also seems to be suggesting those very things might be of value. He wonders what it is she actually sees in this Sera.

"I suppose that is a sensible way to look at it, as long as you don't believe she will become a disruption to achieving our objectives," he responds, choosing to remain diplomatic on the matter. She has the authority to add whomever she likes to their party after all, and without more knowledge on the subject at hand he cannot advise her, even if it were his place to do so.

The laugh that follows does catch him off guard though, "Oh, I'm sure she will be a disruption in a variety of ways," she says with another chuckle, "but no, I don't think it will get in the way of what we are trying to achieve. However, I am afraid that the two of you might have some difficulty dealing with each other."

The statement is certainly not what he was expecting, but he tries to remain distant until he has heard her out.

"She doesn't like magic or anything related to it," she starts, the apology clear in her voice, "and she also hates ... 'elfy-ness', and I think these attitudes might become rather... irksome?... to you." She pauses a moment, but he just waits, "I also think that your own enthusiasm for the subjects will be equally irritating to her," she finishes, clearly somewhat uncomfortable about her own words.

He is confused now. So this elf doesn't like anything magical? Well, that may not be all that unusual, many people fear magic. Perhaps she'd had some bad experience in the past that made her more averse than others but surely it could be worked around, perhaps she could be shown that magic isn't so terrible in the right hands. Hating 'elfy-ness' though? What does that mean? The woman is an elf, he has seen that for himself, so why would she hate her own nature? Does she wish she were human, or otherwise not elven? He supposes it's possible, with the way elves are often treated in this world.

"What do you mean she doesn't like 'elfy-ness'?" he asks, hoping Lavellan can offer some enlightenment. "Does she not feel a kinship with her fellow elves?" 

"Well, I believe it just isn't that important to her." She pauses slightly but moves on before he can say anything. "To her, people are people whether they have pointed ears or not. In her view, there are people on the bottom who just want to live their lives, but are victimized by those above; and there are those on the top, who cause suffering for those below them for their own selfish purposes. Her aim seems to be helping those on the bottom and stopping the abuses of those at the top, race and background are irrelevant. I can't say I disagree either. Overall elves have gotten the worse deal and that should change, ultimately because no race is intrinsically better or worse than another." 

He listens. He does not like what he hears, but he listens. And perhaps it is because she is saying it that he actually tries to understand all her words instead of simply latching on to the statements he has the natural inclination to argue. Hearing everything however, he must admit there is a kind of logic to the viewpoint, the abuses of power from those above and the suffering of those under them seems to be universal, in his experience. But when she states her belief that no race is actually better than another, it comes as a kind of shock. Though he is aware of her break from the Dalish viewpoint, he had believed that she would still have their superior pride as members of an independent elvish society, separate from the influence of the other people of this world.

He does his best to mask his shock and skepticism and looks over at her, trying to see what he had missed. Was there something in her that made him think she saw herself above humans or dwarves, or was it something he had merely assumed.

"You truly believe so?" he asks, looking into her eyes, searching for understanding.

"I do," she answers immediately and firmly, showing no sign of uncertainty.

He looks away again, thinking, examining his own mind. Why had he thought she would see her people as superior? She had shown no sign in her behavior to others, no general preference to elves. She only showed preference to him. She spent more time with him than with any of the others, and so often they seem to be on the same wavelength, having numerous discussions, but no arguments. Had he only assumed that his views would be hers, because of their other similarities? Had he thought her clear preference for him meant that she was motivated by the fact the he is the only elf among their companions?

His head is full of questions, but she doesn't give him much time to dwell on them before she is speaking again.

"I'm just telling you this so you are aware and won't let yourself be easily provoked. I'm also hoping you'll try not to provoke her either. I don't expect you to become best friends, but neither of you are going to be able to change each other's nature, so arguments or confrontations are not likely to benefit anyone. I'm not sure where her fear of magic stems from, but it affects her pretty deeply from what I can tell, and in ways I'm sure neither of us will be able to truly understand. There's also no chance she'll be able to avoid it completely, you and I are both mages, the rifts and Breach are magical, and we'll likely meet plenty of other such phenomena. I guess what I'm asking is that you try to accept her as what she is, and do what you can to avoid adding stress to the situation. She's here to help after all, and I think she will do what she can to that end."

He does his best to set aside his confusion while he listens, he can take his time considering the matter later. For now, he listens to her purpose for bringing up the topic in the first place, and he cannot argue her reasoning. Without warning, he might easily rise to provocation on these matters, but such dissonance among their party would not be conducive to smooth functioning in the field.

"I understand," he tells her, allowing himself to meet her eyes again. "Your request is a sensible one and I will do my best to follow it."

She gives him a genuine smile, "Thank you, that's all I ask. There's probably going to be moments your patience will be tested but I know you'll do your best. I'd have the same conversation with her, but I don't think she would appreciate it very much."

 

They part ways soon after. It is their final evening in Haven and there are preparations to be made. It is also best if they can be well rested before the journey.

He suspects rest will not come easily to him this night, however, not after all that transpired on their walk. One loop around the lake and it feels, in some ways, as though the shape of the world has changed... again. There is much to consider and he is somewhat grateful for the chance to be alone. Though he will inevitably miss her presence, he knows he needs the space just now.

Foremost in his thoughts is still what she told him about Sera, followed by what she had said of her own beliefs. Her purpose had been clear, she said she hoped to prevent any difficulties between them as they travelled, and he cannot blame her for her efforts. If this new addition does indeed have the opinions Lavellan claims, and he is fairly certain her assessment will prove accurate, then it seems likely that he would have reacted negatively when faced with them. He has warning now, however, and the arguments Lavellan put forth to defend such opinions, do seem reasoned and are worth considering, so he will do his best to understand their new member and avoid unnecessary conflict.

He is still troubled about Lavellan's own admission though. Of course, this is not the first time he has found himself confused by her, it continues to be a fairly regular occurrence in fact, but somehow it feels different this time.

She said she believes no people are intrinsically better than any other. Could it simply be because she is unaware of what her people were truly capable of once? She said too that while she believes there is some truth to the stories of her people's gods, she is confident they are not accurate representations of the truth. But what of the stories of Arlathan and Elvhenan? The magic and immortality the People possessed as their birthright? These are gifts only denied her by his own foolishness. Yes, they had their failings too, or he never would have had to consider creating the Veil. But, there was so much more that was wondrous. So much he would have loved to have shown her.

But of course, she cannot truly understand what her people once were, what they could have been, if not for him. If she did, then surely she would know greater pride in her heritage.

And yet, there was something in the way she said it, something in the steadiness of her aura, that tells him she would have said the same, even knowing everything that he does. It is this that confuses him. He is not sure what it means, perhaps he is simply misreading her confidence. She can probably only be so certain because of how much she does not know, that she could never even dream of. Yet still, he is unsettled.

Even simply taken at face value, he is unsure how to feel about her statement. He thinks he should be angry at her assertion, but he knows he cannot be. How can he resent her willingness to see value, or even potential value, in all around her? She has already helped many by her efforts and this goodness and humility is one of the aspects of her he most values.

At one time he may have taken it as simple naiveté, but he cannot say that of her now, he has seen that she is well aware of the harsher truths of the world, she only seems willing to stand against it. She even saw value in him when she had no reason to, had strongly promised to defend him against those who might think less of him, the memory of which often returns to his mind, and he still feels undeserving of it. But no, he cannot see this part of her as bad, or even wrong, despite his own confusion and disagreement on the matter.

He hopes he can at least learn to understand her views at some point, but for now it seems it must be added to the many other mysteries she has left him with.

Mysteries like why _does_ she have such strong regard for him? Despite the hesitation she has continued to demonstrate, there can be no mistaking her reactions when they touch. He shudders at the memory of his soft caress across her face, at her reaction to his lips on her hand. He can feel she wants what he does, she just manages to hold herself back better than he. Another way in which she seems stronger than him. If only he could resist even as much as that.

Still, though he _has_ tried to resist, he is undeniably attracted to her, and if he thinks about it, it is not all that surprising. She is intelligent, kind, open, and curious. She is the first inhabitant of this world who seems truly interested in what he has to impart. She even seems to understand him in ways he never expected.

And then there's the way he can feel her presence, her emotions, as they shift across her aura in a way that has been silenced for all the others of her people, a feeling that has not only been a comfort in it's ancient familiarity, but yet another avenue for him to come to understand as much about her as he has. He still cannot determine why she alone seems to possess this ability, an ability that has guaranteed her his more focused attention from that first moment on the mountain. He can almost forget about the mark upon her hand because of it. Almost.

She is beautiful too, but it is a beauty that, when he looks upon her, or ever thinks of her, is inseparable from all the other things about her he finds so fascinating.

He still cannot help wondering if she may just be too good to be true. But it feels more as though he is reaching for straws. He cannot believe that it could all just be lies, that everything he knows about her could be false. She is full of mysteries, there is no doubt, but the things that matter, surely those are real.

But what is it she sees in him? She is comfortable around him, that is clear, and their personalities seem to mesh very well. She clearly enjoys his lessons and their talks. But why? Is it that she trusts him? He cannot forget what she told him about some of the past treatment she has received, and to her he must seem different.

He is using her too though, and he is lying to her, and he must betray her, one day.

If only she could sense enough of that to keep her distance, it would be better for them both, less painful in the long run.

If only he were strong enough to keep his own distance, to prevent the pain only he understands is waiting for them on this road.

But he is selfish.

However real she may be, he is false. She should have better. He should let her find better.

But he is selfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you all for reading and continued support! Every kudos and comment brightens my day!
> 
> Unfortunately, there won't be any new updates for October. I'll be out of town and things are going to be pretty hectic for the next month, so I think it's best I don't add the pressure of updating on top of everything else.   
> But never fear, I WILL BE BACK!! You can expect new updates at the start of November. I've got a lot planned for you, some (hopefully) exciting things on the way.
> 
> I will still be around online however so feel free to leave me comments here or come find me on tumblr (@mayonaka-no-tenshi)
> 
> Otherwise, everyone have a great October!


	16. Building Tensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Ch36- beginning of Ch37 of "Reality Dreaming"

He does his best to settle his mind the evening before their departure by preparing for the journey ahead. He packs everything carefully, considers which books are worth taking, and carefully applies wards to protect everything from the harsh conditions of extended travel.

He hopes he will be tired by the time he is finished, but the day will not let him settle yet. Unable to resist any longer, he pulls out his sketchbook to draw out the day's memories. He knows there will be no escape from their torment until he has put them down in this more solid form.

He doesn't stop until the piece of charcoal he is holding is unusable and his hands are streaked with black. His eyes are tired now too, and he thinks sleep may finally be attainable. Yet he lingers at the table a while longer, looking down at his work. He runs his fingers along the shapes, keeping them just above the surface to avoid smudging, as he remembers the day, the brightness in her eyes, the feel of soft skin.

He gives a soft sigh, tired and resigned, before carefully closing the book and repacking everything.

 

 

When he enters the Fade, he goes to see Wisdom. He has not been to see her for a while, but she has always been one of his most trusted friends and she has offered him good counsel on countless occasions. He hopes she can do the same again now.

She looks up when she notices his approach and smiles, "Hello my friend, it is good to see you."

She can feel the conflict and uncertainty within him, despite his effort to shield it. She thinks he has come with some specific purpose.

He offers a smile in return, but somehow there seems to be more worry than genuine gladness behind the expression. "It is good to see you as well," he tells her. "I... I have an issue I hope you might be able to help me with."

"Of course, I am always happy to offer whatever help I can. What matter is it that is giving you trouble?" she asks gently.

He does not answer right away. At first it seems he is taking the time to select his words, but as the silence lengthens she wonders if he may in fact change his mind and not speak at all.

Finally, he does speak though, "A few weeks ago I was made aware that current circumstances might in fact pose a threat to you and other spirits in the Fade. I am seeking some way you and they might be protected from any undesired removal from the Fade. I have been seeking answers on my own, but thus far have had almost no success. I hope you might know something that will help me in my efforts."

She is somewhat taken aback by the request. It is not what she was expecting.

It does explain his strange mood and the sense of worry she is getting from him, and it is certainly a troubling matter if the safety of herself and other spirits is significantly threatened by present circumstances. It is somewhat curious that this would have suddenly become a concern now, but the Fade _has_ changed subtly since the creation of the Breach, so it seems as though it could be a very real concern. However, as she studies him, and subsequently notices the spirit hiding some distance away, though closer than she suspects he would usually allow, it only increases her certainty that this is not what he'd intended to ask her about.

She is happy to assist her friend in this matter, but she worries for him. What is it he seemingly cannot bring himself to discuss with her?

 

 

When he wakes early the next morning, he is as frustrated with himself as he had been before entering the Fade.

He had gone to Wisdom, fully intending to tell her everything about Lyara, hoping she would give him counsel and help him find the will to resist the pull she has on him that only seems to increase. Wisdom has always been one of his most trusted friends, with whom he's shared many of his deepest concerns and most intimate experiences. Even when it seemed the whole world stood against him, she'd remained steadfast. He has often wondered how he would have made it so far if not for her. And yet, as he'd stood before her, poised to explain his turmoil and its cause, something held him back from doing so.

He supposes part of it may be shame. Not in Lyara herself of course, but rather shame for his own behavior, for not being better able to control himself. He should be strong enough, that for all he cares for her he should be able to protect her by keeping his distance, and yet he continually fails.

Then too, it might just be fear. He has not spoken of his feelings to anyone, he is barely able to acknowledge them himself. What little has been expressed has been to her alone. For now it feels like a kind of dream, something beautiful and perfect and not quite real. Perhaps a part of him feels he can hold on to the dream a while longer, as long as no one else is involved, that the moment it is revealed more openly it will no longer be.

It is foolish to think so however. It isn't even truly just between them anymore. He is not oblivious to the spirits that have begun to haunt his steps. Even Varric's occasional pointed comments have made it clear the man suspects something. Bryn too has clearly noticed something.

Solas shakes his head, trying to break free of this useless train of thought. It doesn't matter for the time being anyway. They will be on the road soon and there will be significantly less opportunity for spending much time alone together. He knows ignoring it this way will not solve anything, but it at least buys some time. He has given up hoping for some amount of distance that will allow him to break free as he should, but if circumstances can just slow things down a bit, perhaps he may find the strength elsewhere.

He does his best to avoid thinking of the matter altogether for the rest of the morning. It is clearly a waste of time, as his thoughts seems only able to go in endless circles. Instead he tries to focus on his final preparations before it is time to join the others by the stables.

The air feels fresh and cool as he steps out into the morning air. The sky is still dim but the day promises to be a clear one, good for travel.

Only Cassandra is there when he arrives but it isn't more than a few minutes before Bryn, Lavellan, and Varric join them. By the time they are almost ready to leave, Sera has yet to make an appearance. Cassandra soon goes to fetch their new member, and both return in less than good spirits. Apparently, their journey will not be off to quite the good start the fresh morning had suggested.

 

 

It isn't long before he can see for himself just what Lavellan had meant by her warnings, regarding their new member, the day before.

Though she eventually proves her capability on the battlefield, with admittedly impressive skill with a bow, their new addition, Sera, is certainly disruptive to the relatively sedate atmosphere he's become used to among their group. Of course Varric has always kept things fairly lively with his enthusiastic storytelling, but Sera is far more unpredictable in behavior and brash in manner. She might be telling bawdy jokes one minute, and then complaining loudly about the weather the next. She seems to enjoy asking questions, prodding at the others about random things, and inserting her own opinions where they are not wanted.

Everyone deals with her in their own way. Cassandra often becomes annoyed or exasperated, dismissing questions if she feels they carry on too far. Varric, doesn't seem to mind much and often does his best to play along or laugh it off, clearly baffled by the young elf at times, but taking it with his customary good humor. Bryn and Lavellan seem to be very patient with her for the most part, simply listening to whatever she has to say and responding calmly. Bryn sometimes asks more about these Red Jennies Sera is supposedly a member of. Lavellan however, tends more towards questions around some of the more controversial topics Sera had expressed opinions about. Rather than engage in any kind of argument, Lavellan generally just listens to whatever their new member has to say, and apparently just thinks it over after. It is never anything big or dramatic, Sera is not inclined to detailed discussions, but he cannot miss how Lavellan is as open to hearing what she has to say as she is with him or any of the other members of their group.

Of course, he cannot miss the tension in the mornings. Neither of the women are morning people, but where Lavellan prefers to be quiet and withdrawn, Sera makes it clear to everyone how little she likes being awake at such an early hour. The first couple of mornings pass with Lavellan doing her best to ignore the noise, though it is more than clear to him how aggravated she is getting. He tries to ask the girl to be a bit quieter, but only succeeds in drawing more of her complaints towards him. On the third morning, the level of annoyance rippling across Lavellan's aura almost has his skin itching until suddenly her voice breaks out across the camp, louder than he's ever heard it. "Sera!!" she shouts. Varric and Sera actually jump a little at the sound and Cassandra shoots a surprised look towards the Herald.

Once all else is quiet and attention is focused entirely on Lavellan she continues, "Shut. Up."

The words are not quite as loud now, but the intensity is unmistakable. Her eyes almost seem to have embers in them, though it is likely only the reflection of the fire.

It seems to work. Sera is silent for several seconds before settling into a much lower grumble which continues on following mornings as well.

He can't help being slightly impressed at the display. The only other time he'd seen such a forceful display had been in Val Royeaux, but then it had been against an opponent. To see her use it with her allies for the first time seems a testament to how she has grown into her position. He doubts she realizes the significance but as long as she maintains the ability to control it, it is good to see that she is becoming more comfortable with the role that has been forced upon her.

As for himself, he finds he is easily aggravated by the Sera's course manner and obvious lack of respect for even basic etiquette. She is vocal in her dislike of magic and disparaging of any mention of the history or language of the elves. Despite Lavellan's warnings, he'd been unable resist testing her assessment but quickly found it to be completely valid.

It is a more disappointing revelation than he'd expected, especially after being warned, yet it reminds him how much has been lost, how little the people of this world understand. It threatens to drown him anew in self-recrimination, until he looks over to Lavellan, who has drawn Sera's attention back to herself. She meets his eye briefly before returning her attention to whatever the girl is going on about now.

He takes a breath and does what he can to calm his own mind again. Lyara reminds him that there may still be some things that are not wholly broken, that hope remains for the People, for success. He does his best not to consider now what he will have to sacrifice for that success however. Instead he returns his attention back to the two elven women and their conversation, his curiosity reawakened as his aggravation has abated. If Lyara sees some value in what Sera has to say then he cannot help wanting to understand it is as well.

 

 

Sera also manages to complicate the evening training sessions. Her insistence that they practice magic away from the camp forces him and Lavellan farther into the trees to find some nearby clearing in which to work. The unexpected separation from the group, and resulting sense of privacy fills him with a mixture of excitement and ambivalence. In truth, the distance from the camp is not that great, it is only that the number of trees between them provides enough of a barrier to create the illusion of privacy.

They had been making the effort to maintain some physical distance between them. They never sit together and often are careful to keep some distance between them, but it is certainly deliberate on both their parts. He can feel the pull of her presence on him as always, but it is easier to resist in the presence of others and it prevents any other unintended interactions between them, which after their last walk together, he fears could lead to trouble.

Now he finds himself alone with her again, out of view of the others, and he struggles to focus on anything else. Still, there is much for her to learn and it is imperative that he offer the best instruction he can, so he forces his mind towards the techniques they will work on.

He doesn't notice it as it's happening but he eventually finds himself standing closer to her than usual, a hand on her shoulder as he explains what he wants her to do.

Without thinking, he finds he does this more and more as the minutes pass - gentle touches on her back, arms, shoulders - each time is brief, yet for how clearly each one stands out in his mind, he might as well have been hit with lightning each time. And each time he feels what seems to be a similar reaction in her and he begins to wonder what would happen if his touch were to linger just a bit longer... He mentally shakes himself from such thoughts more often than he cares to admit throughout their lesson.

He decides to cut short some of what he'd planned for the lesson and suggests working on a new staff technique hoping it will help him ground himself again, help him clear his head a bit, or rather, help them both, as he can tell she seems no less affected than he is by their close proximity and those brief touches. He chooses something a little more complex in hopes that it will require too much focus for them to be easily distracted by other things.

This proves to be a mistake however.

Before he even realizes what he is doing he finds himself behind her, and physically adjusting her limbs into the right position. He doesn't realize what he is doing for about a second, until he feels the stilling in her aura and body, followed by the unmistakable tremor of heat in that small space between them. He knows he should pull away and return to visual and verbal corrections, but somehow he can't manage to do so, and instead continues to instruct through a more hands on approach. He relishes the feeling in her aura and the warmth of her skin under his fingers with every touch, the way she responds every time. It is intoxicating being this close to her.

He can feel the rising tension in her, the desire to turn the tables on him, but in this he does have some control. He keeps her on task through it all, controlling the game and not allowing her any excuse to offer any contact in return, much as he wants it, he knows it would be a mistake. As it is, the mix of frustration and the heated energy between them making for an interesting lesson as they somehow manage to simultaneously remain serious on the work.

When they finally leave the clearing behind to return to the others, hardly more than an hour later. The tension follows, even as they proceed with the evening in a routine fashion: a subtle undercurrent to the usual evening atmosphere of camp, which follows him all the way into the Fade.

The next day starts almost normally, besides the aggravation triggered by their new member, but there is something mischievous in Lavellen's aura from the start. Once they are on the road again, it quickly becomes apparent how she plans to pay him back for the night before.

He knows he should avoid doing so, but as they ride he cannot help but let his eyes fall on her, watching her back. She soon makes it clear she knows when he is watching. They are simple gestures, things he has seen her do countless times before, but there is a charge to them now, and a subtlety in them he cannot fail to sense as her aura calls his undivided attention to the performance. Where her hands brush, he cannot help but imagine his own in their place. Fingertips sliding down the back of her neck, or over delicate ear tips. How would she react to his touch there, he wonders? His fingers...or his mouth?

It is moments like these that make him almost grateful for Varric's endless stories or Sera's complaints and prodding; distractions that help to anchor him in the world that is more than just Lyara. He is almost glad to see rifts at this point, as it is something that can completely take up their focus, allowing a break from the near constant tensions between them. He tries to regain some control over his thoughts during these respites, but any success he achieves is short-lived. She is always there ahead of him, and even if she were not in his view, he is all too aware of her presence.

That second evening the game intensifies as he reacts to the built up tension of the day, repaying her with firmer, more lingering touches. He gives instructions close to her ear, letting his breath play across the sensitive tips and enjoying the slight shudder this triggers as she leans into him ever so slightly, aura pulling at him.

He is not sure how they make it through those evenings on the road to the Hinterlands. Too often he wonders what would happen if his hands and mouth were to explore other areas. Would she shudder then too? And if he were let her return his touch, what would she do? It has been so long since anyone has been this close, how would it feel to let her even closer? These questions torment him, but somehow he manages to do nothing towards finding their answers.

The Fade too, holds little relief, rather it seems to make it all worse, as it seems some of those feelings are now literally following him here. The spirit that has tailed him periodically for a while now, has been joined by another, of only subtly different purpose. They are wise enough to keep their distance, but refuse to remain absent for long. He tries to ignore them, but the nature of the Fade makes denying the growing feelings inside _very_ difficult to ignore.

It is a kind of torture to be so close to her and yet knowing he cannot close that last distance between them. They seem to be courting disaster and by the fact that a part of her continues to hold back as well, it seems she too is aware of their peril, but when they are close, and alone, resistance seems futile. Whatever obstacles remain between them, he has to wonder if they will be enough. They must be, he cannot afford for things to go any further, but with every effort to regain stability he attempts, it seems he slips a little farther down this slope.

 

 

When they finally reach the main camp in the Hinterlands, it brings an end to their lessons alone together. It is both a disappointment and a relief, but ultimately it is probably for the best.

Their efforts in the region keep them busy and he finds it somewhat easier to focus again now that their attention is diverted to more pressing matters. The impending confrontation with an unusually strong group of bandits especially weighs on her mind, once their hideout is located, and the heated tension of the previous days is replaced instead with concern on her behalf and the more serious need to ensure her safety. The actual fighting the next day requires nothing less than their absolute focus, so that by the time it is over he feels much better about circumstances overall and has renewed confidence in his level of control as they proceed.

Things proceed smoothly from there. Lavellan is able to procure horses for the Inquisition, and even the services of Dennet himself, with seemingly little trouble, before they are moving on again in search of the Warden rumored to be somewhere in the area. They eventually find the man after a few days of wandering and following confusing leads. Solas feels the Herald does well in dealing with the slightly grizzled warrior. He watches with some pride as she questions the man, demonstrating how much she has changed since the first time they'd set out, becoming more the leader every day. Even so, he is not expecting it when she accepts the man into their group so easily.

He notices some of the others are slightly taken aback by the turn of events as well, but no one seems to argue, her authority in the matter apparently firm enough that even Cassandra offers no resistance, though she maintains her customary suspicious reserve towards their newest member, especially when it becomes apparent that he and Sera get along unexpectedly well.

It is clear to everyone that Lavellan is increasingly pleased as their tasks are accomplished, and it is well deserved as they have been quite successful in every endeavor so far and encountered so few difficulties. What the others are not aware of is the very subtle undercurrent of disquiet in her. There seems to be no clear cause for such unease and she continues to act as if all else is normal.

When he notices this, however, he begins to realize he has been neglecting his efforts in trying to allow her privacy and avoid noting too closely the emotions she projects. But since that last day in Haven he had been so focused on her, they'd both been focused on each other, so much so that the continuing connection had happened without even a thought, it just comes so naturally at this point. In fact, he is no longer sure how much he will be able to pull back from catching the full range of her emotions anymore, he is simply too tuned in now.

Along this same line of thought he realizes she must be beginning to sense more of him as well and he can only guess how much longer it will be until she realizes what is happening. He has already seen some of the effects as she subconsciously responds to feelings he knows he has not betrayed in any outward way. Sometimes the response is only in her own emotions, but their source can almost certainly be traced back to his own reactions.

It is yet another set of circumstances he bears mixed feelings in regards to. On one hand he does not wish to reveal too much and suspects it would be wiser to guard his emotions much more closely. On the other, he is more than a little curious how much she will ultimately be able to discern. He still has hopes of teaching her more of the language of her ancestors, and the more she can read of him, the closer she will be to communicating in the way her people were always meant to.

He ponders this issue along with all the others he continues to wrestle with, as they make their way towards Redcliffe. Unfortunately, as with most of them, clear answers continue to elude him.

The prospect of their meeting the Grand Enchanter and finally making progress towards sealing the Breach is encouraging at least.

Unfortunately, as they approach the town he can already tell something is wrong. There is something strange about the Veil the closer they get and he finds it deeply disturbing.

They are not far from the gates when they see the rift. It is not active yet, but he knows as soon as Lavellan gets close enough, that will change. All outside appearances show it to be a normal rift, yet there is still something about it that feels off to him.

As they begin their approach he thinks to warn her, but as he meets her eyes he can tell she has already noticed it.

"Be careful, there's something different about this rift," she calls out to the others, alerting them to what they have no way of perceiving.

Once the rift is open it doesn't take long to realize what is happening. With the rift, large pockets of altered time seem to have opened up around them. From the outside there is no way to recognize where these regions are unless something is inside. He is able to sense them, and clearly Lavellan can too, but the others are at a distinct disadvantage as they try to engage the demons now emerging and getting caught in the time distortions themselves.

Despite the ability to sense them, the phenomena prove nearly impossible to avoid. Their size alone is a considerable problem but they also seem to drift and move in unpredictable ways, speeding up or slowing down the time within their perimeters. Magical attacks and arrows also seem to be affected as they pass through these regions, further hindering their efforts to clear out the demons and shut the rift.

What should have been a routine rift closure takes them several minutes longer than would be normal, but they manage to maneuver through and around this new challenge effectively enough to succeed in getting it closed eventually.

When Sera races up to them, exclaiming "What kind of freaky shite was that?!", he can hardly begrudge her the sentiment. It is certainly something unexpected and undeniably disturbing.

"The rift appeared to alter the time around it," Cassandra states, shock clear in her voice.

Everyone is shaken by the experience but as he looks over to Lavellan, hoping to get her impressions so that they may evaluate circumstances, he finds that though she too is clearly unnerved, it is not to the degree he might have expected.

"Whatever this was, it wasn't good. We need to find the cause of this, but be on your guard," she tells everyone firmly. She meets his eyes briefly but is moving towards the gates before he can speak.

It seems their visit to Redcliffe will be more complicated than he'd anticipated.

And so it is with a very different tension in the air that he follows Lavellan through the gates into Redcliffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was somewhat delayed, it's been hard getting back in the swing of things since I got back. 
> 
> I'm not sure I'm satisfied with this chapter, but maybe I've just been staring at it for too long. If nothing else I hope it provides some distraction from the US election mess right now.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	17. Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Ch37 - beginning of Ch38 of Reality Dreaming

 

The farther they walk along the path the more uneasy Solas becomes. The Veil feels strange here, nothing like he has encountered before. Whatever is causing it is likely also what caused the strange phenomena with the rift but he cannot guess what that might be yet. When they receive word that the town is now under the control of a magister, it does nothing to calm his unease.

He has heard much of Tevinter, enough that he felt it too great a risk to venture there since waking, in his weakened condition. What he has seen in the Fade has only made him that much more cautious of those who hail from the region. That they now control the city does not bode well on any front. The rest of their companions seem to be similarly disturbed but he notes that Lavellan seems to take the information in stride, despite being clearly unhappy at the situation. He would have expected her to be more concerned, as an elf, but perhaps her knowledge of Tevinter is limited. He has no way to know what information was available to her among her clan or what she has studied while in Haven.

He adjusts his pace to bring him alongside the Herald as she leads their group towards the town.

"The Veil is weaker here than in Haven. And not merely weak but altered in a way I have not seen," he tells her, curious what she is able to sense.

"I can feel it too," she confirms with a nod, "I can't put my finger on exactly what is different, but it really bothers me. Hopefully we can get some answers while we're here."

Her answer is not quite a dismissal, but she seems slightly distracted as they enter the town proper. Her eyes seem to dance around, taking in their surroundings, focusing on various people around them with a hint of curiosity. It takes him a little while to realize she is probably noticing all the mages. He had forgotten that this would be the largest concentration of mages in one area she has encountered since realizing her abilities with magic. It must be slightly overwhelming for her. He wonders if this level of distraction is likely to impair her. He hopes she will become accustomed to the new sensations quickly, with the circumstances they have already encountered here, she will need to be particularly vigilant.

Once they reach the tavern they are to meet the Grand Enchanter in, Lavellan splits up their party, sending half their number out to begin collecting information. It seems a wise move; they are not likely to need their full number for this meeting, and she chooses those he believes to be best to handle unexpected situations, to accompany her.

He enters the tavern along with Cassandra and Bryn, a rather dark and somber space after the sunlight outdoors. Few patrons seem to be inside but those that are, watch them closely as they enter, curiosity and even suspicion in their eyes. An undercurrent of fear seems to run just beneath the surface as well, as none seem willing to meet any of their party in the eye.

The Herald greets the Grand Enchanter Fiona, but it quickly becomes apparent the elven mage has no idea who they are.

"Actually, we are here because of your invitation. When we met you in Val Royeaux, you asked us to come," the Herald explains calmly.

"You must be mistaken. I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave," comes the response, confusion on the Enchanter's face.

"Well, someone spoke to us in Val Royeaux who looked exactly like you, that person invited us here, and so we came. They seemed to want an alliance and we are interested in discussing the possibility." Lavellan's tone remains even but he gets the impression that she does not expect much from the other mage. Before he can reflect on this further, however, the Enchanter is speaking again.

"Someone who looked like me? I suppose it could be magic at work but..." she starts, voice trailing off in confusion for a moment before looking up again, a resolute look in her eye, "Whoever or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."

Hearing it so bluntly stated, not only that magisters were indeed in power here, but that these mages had in fact pledged themselves into servitude to them... "I understand your position must have been precarious here, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter," he tells her, unable to hold back the words. Whatever threat the Templars posed, surely becoming slaves to Tevinter could not have been preferable.

The Herald continues to face the Enchanter calmly but he can feel the annoyance beneath the surface. She clearly is not any happier with these circumstances than he is.

Before the conversation can continue much further, however, the door opens, allowing in the Tevinter mages in question.

As the niceties are exchanged he focuses on the apparent leader. It is clear he is a powerful mage, but there is also something strange about him, something that seems reminiscent of what he feels in the Veil here. Is he the cause of these disturbances? Or has he somehow been affected by whatever caused it? Solas resolves to remain alert to the man to determine the answers to these questions.

He watches as the exchange continues to unfold. Lavellan does admirably well facing the magister calmly though he can still detect the distinct displeasure she bears at the situation, or perhaps towards the man himself, more than likely both. Solas himself cannot prevent the anger he feels at learning of the details of the mages agreement with these people, though no one but the Magister himself seems particularly pleased. Still, he is glad when the conversation turns towards gaining aid in closing the Breach. He hopes there may still be some way to at least negotiate the aid of the mages for their purpose, but as he shifts focus more closely on the Herald, he can detect no such hope there. He hears her as she very diplomatically requests aid, but it is almost as if she _expects_ not to receive the help. This confuses him, but he decides he must be mistaken, it seems too pessimistic for her nature and more likely it is just that he is not able to sense the full scope of what she is feeling just now, with her focus so clearly on other matters. He should not even be trying to do so this hard, he reminds himself, turning his attention to the other man now being introduced as the magister's son.

The younger man steps forward, but something appears to be wrong. A few more steps and the man is falling forward only to be caught by Lavellan, who clearly noticed the problem too. It happens so suddenly though, that he only just manages to keep himself from taking a more defensive posture, immediately wary to see her in such proximity to a Tevinter mage, and ready to act if it should be needed.

"I'm so sorry, please forgive my clumsiness my lady," the man tells her as she helps to steady him again.

He is just able to notice that where she had maintained wariness with the father, she seems unafraid now, he would have guessed it was simply her natural compassion but there is something else there that he cannot identify before the father reaches them, clear concern in the man's eyes as he quickly moves to aid his son. A short time later it is apparent that the negotiations will not continue this day. It is with real disappointment that he watches them leave, the Enchanter trailing behind the Tevinter mages.

He has little time to dwell on this once they are gone, however. Lavellan immediately comes back to where he and the others stand, a slip of paper in her hand, which she passes to Bryn.

'Come to the Chantry, you are in danger,' he reads once the note is passed to him. It must have come from the younger mage when he fell. It is a strange turn of events and certainly suspicious.

"It could be a trap," Cassandra says, echoing some of his own concerns.

"It could also be answers," Lavellan counters. "We will need to be cautious but I think we need to do what we can to find out what this is all about."

Her words are sensible but he cannot help but notice the lack of any real fear at this note or what it might represent. Something in her seems almost eager. It seems so strange to him, he suspects he has simply misread something. With all that is happening it is proving hard to focus on any one element.

"I agree," Bryn says, offering her support to Lavellan's suggestion, "I suggest the rest of us continue gathering information from the villagers, whatever we can. We can find the others and let them know to also meet us by the Chantry just before the time written here."

He is not surprised to hear Bryn's response, she always seems to be first to give her support to any of the Herald's more bold suggestions. While he cannot always agree with such an approach, he can appreciate that neither of them seem to take any truly unreasonable risks, he only hopes that will continue to be the case.

He and Cassandra are then given the task of gathering information from those in the tavern and the surrounding area. They decide to team up since Cassandra, being a Seeker, would likely have trouble getting much out of these people on her own.

The hour that follows only serves to further his sense of unease. They find that a few of the mages think joining with those from Tevinter is a good idea, but most seem unsure, even afraid. Many are uncomfortable that the decision was made for them and he finds himself increasingly aggravated by the entire set of circumstances.

He cannot understand how the Grand Enchanter could have done this to her people. Was she truly so ignorant of what she was getting them into? Was the situation as dire as she claimed? But then what of the meeting in Orlais? The woman they'd met there made no mention of magisters and seemed truly interested in aiding the Inquisition, yet the one they met today claims no knowledge of such a meeting. Whatever is going on, there is nothing good about it.

All of it is a mess: mages, elves, blights, endless corruption and conflict among the various societies now populating this land. Whatever the faults of his people, they were still one people who knew who and what they were, and could be united in that shared identity. It had not been a fair system to everyone, but it had been clearly defined and that made it easier for him to see where his fight must lay. Here, it is merely chaos. These beings fight a thousand petty battles that get them nowhere. Surely he is doing the world a favor to sweep it all away and start fresh.

"I find the situation very concerning," Cassandra says to him, shocking him out of his thoughts as they begin to make their way towards the Chantry. "I worry what will happen to these people. I hope we can find a way to ensure their safety."

"You mean so that we can gain their aid in closing the Breach," he says coldly. It is not a question. Those of lower status have always been used for the benefit of those above and this world has proved to be no better. That which once symbolized greatness in the world is now pushed so low that it only has value when needed for the purposes of those in power. If it were not for the Breach, it is likely no one would give much care to the plight of the mages in Redcliffe.

"Well, yes, that is true, but it was not what I meant," the Seeker answers, somewhat caught off guard, "It is only that I do not believe these people deserve what they are being put through. It seems many of these mages came here because they were afraid, and now they find themselves under Tevinter control. It is unfortunate that the Inquisition could not help them sooner and I only hope it is not too late for us to do something."

As he listens to her he feels some of the bitterness recede. As he has gotten to know her he has found her to be remarkably more open-minded than he would have expected. In fact, with the exception of Sera, all of those he has been travelling with have seemed more willing to accept elves and mages than many he has encountered before. They remain utterly misguided and ignorant on many things, but he supposes they are not entirely without redeeming qualities, and Lavellan seems to see much of value in them.

Lavellan: the one person that truly redeems any part of this world. If only more could understand as well as she does.

With a sigh he decides to take Cassandra's statement in the spirit it is intended, "Yes, I hope so as well. Perhaps the Magister will allow another meeting soon that will allow us to negotiate some better terms for the mages here."

He doubts it will be possible, they will be lucky if they can even negotiate for their aid, but it costs him nothing to hope otherwise.

They come into view of the chantry before anything more can be said on the matter. Lavellan and Varric are already there waiting and it isn't much longer before the others join them as well.

He could sense the rift that must be inside from some distance off, and from this distance it seems a mage is already inside. He can tell Lavellan has recognized these details as well, and a kind of nervous energy radiates off her, she seems almost eager in fact. He isn't sure what to make of it.

Everything about the situation continues to unsettle him. He had not expected to find another rift here, and it could all very well be a trap, but if there is a rift, they have little choice but to go and deal with it. As for Lavellan, much of what he has been able to read from her has been confusing so as to cause him to question his own perceptions. He feels sure he is missing something.

Once they are all gathered, Lavellan tells the others about what they are likely to find inside and gives instructions to handle the rift first and the mage second, reminding them to be on guard for more time distortions.

They make their way up to the chantry and head inside the first chamber, letting the doors to the outside close firmly behind them before continuing. The sounds of a fight in progress can already be heard through the door and Lavellan seems almost giddy. Her face looks serious but there is something bright in her eyes.

There is no time to try to understand it however as they open the inner doors, revealing the rift and an unfamiliar mage fighting off two demons. The unidentified mage turns towards them actually smiling, "Good, you're finally here. Now help me close this would you."

He almost thinks he catches Lavellan smiling, but then she is moving, calling out, "Cassandra and Bryn with me, everyone else fan out but don't get too close until I disrupt the rift, then move in quickly."

They follow the instructions immediately, spreading themselves out, he, Sera, and Varric attacking any targets near enough that the time distortions won't pose too much of an obstacle. It doesn't take long before the rift is successfully disrupted though and they all take action, clearing the space of demons quickly and efficiently.

With the rift closed all attention turns to the as yet unknown mage who is now headed their way, straight towards Lavellan. Solas braces himself, but the mage stops a short distance away and proceeds to comment on the Anchor.

"Fascinating. How does that work exactly?" the man asks.

Lavellan seems oddly at ease as she raises the hand in question to look at it.

"You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes," the man comments, laughing casually.

Solas doesn't know why but he doesn't like this man. He is obviously from Tevinter, judging by his garb, and his cavalier approach to the situation does not earn him any credit. He is disappointed to see Lavellan clearly smiling now as she responds, "Yep, that's pretty much it. Now, would you care to tell us who you are?"

The mage offers a somewhat embellished introduction and confirms his country of origin.

Solas approves of Cassandra's suspicious response and only wishes Lavellan would follow suit. Still, at least she does quickly get down to business and asks the man to explain things, which he does in great detail.

Hearing what the stranger has to say does nothing to settle his mind however, quite the contrary. The idea that a magister has somehow become able to harness magic that can manipulate time, and is using it with seemingly little consideration for the consequences is truly horrifying. Similar magic was known of in his time but one of the few things he could credit those with such potential capabilities with, was their understanding that such power was far too dangerous to be used, and that was in no small part due to how it is nearly impossible to control. The consequences of it's use were utterly unpredictable and just as likely to result in backfiring as working as intended. Knowledge of it was limited to only the most powerful, but if anyone had discovered such secrets and was caught using it, or even attempting to do so, it was immediately punishable by death. He cannot begin to guess what consequences may have already resulted from this magister's use of it. The damage to the Veil is already apparent but even if there are no serious effects yet, it is only a matter of time, unless it is stopped.

During the conversation he notices Lavellan has also become more serious, as she takes in the obvious gravity of the situation. Even so, she seems too relaxed in the presence of this man, speaking easily with him, "So, Alexius managed to manipulate time in a way that would allow him to arrive just after the explosion at the Conclave."

"Exactly, you catch on quick," the dark haired mage nods with approval.

Unable to allow her to remain so close to this stranger on her own any longer, Solas steps forward positioning himself just slightly ahead of Lavellan, "Though fascinating, this magic is certainly dangerous, and likely unpredictable."

As the man continues his explanation, Solas does have to at least give him credit for acknowledging the seriousness of the danger.

When Felix finally shows up and explains about the cult and their desire to get to Lavellan he has to consciously hold himself back from stepping fully in front of her. He is not sure he trusts either of them, despite the information they share and the warning they offer. Lavellan on the other hand seems far too willing to trust both the Magister's son and his one time apprentice. It seems an unlikely set of circumstances that both would choose to betray their mentor or father. It is not impossible, but this is not the time to proceed without extreme caution, there is too much at stake. That it is Lavellan's life that seems to be most at risk only amplifies this imperative.

He is more than a little glad when both mages leave. He'd been half afraid Lavellan would issue yet another invitation to join their party. Even so, he feels some need to caution her about the situation, though perhaps it is not something he would prefer to address with the others. As they head out to finish their survey of the town and it's people he decides to consider the matter some more and discuss the issue at their evening's lesson. What they find as they continue exploring the town only reinforces his resolve.

It is no small relief to him when they finally leave, making their way back to camp. He hadn't realized just how on edge he'd been until they are away from the distraction of so many mages, and the feeling of the strange nature of Veil over the place. Out here at least, it will be easier to see the danger coming.

 

***

 

"A dragon has been sited in the Hinterlands, not far from here. It has already destroyed a few homes and if something is not done soon, many fear it will result in much loss of life. It will certainly cause problems for travelers in the region," the messenger tells them shortly after they arrive back at the camp.

He feels a new tension return at the prospects of placing her in front of a dragon. This is not something he'd seen coming. Obviously, she hadn't either, her stunned surprise is clear to see. She had been calm and relaxed as they'd approached the camp but now he catches small sparks of panic as she tries to process the news.

He wishes there were some other option he could present to keep them out of it, to keep her out of it, but it is quite clear there are no other options and they will have to deal with this new problem.

The rest of the evening is dedicated to considering how best to kill a dragon. Cassandra offers suggestions based on her own experiences and it turns out Varric has some experience with dragons as well. Even so, they are limited in what they can do to prepare for such a fight. Much may depend on where they will actually face the dragon. They don't know if they will be in the open or if cover will be available. The capabilities of the dragon are also uncertain. While many dragons use fire there are those that possess other abilities.

As they talk, he can feel Lavellan's anxiety levels rise steadily. On the outside, she appears grim, but calm. Beneath the surface though, he is aware of the real worry and fear that she bears. As they eat, she seems to withdraw further and further into herself, but there is a tension that only seems to build in her until he sees her stand and walk out of the circle of the fire heading out into the dark without a word.

This in itself is not that unusual, but he can tell she is not simply seeking a more private space in the brush or behind a tree, for the more usual needs. She is separating herself from all of them, seeking solitude. Though this is not something she has ever done on their travels, it does not seem out of character for her, and he can well understand the impulse. He feels the usual discomfort of feeling the distance between them lessen his ability to perceive her aura, but he ignores it in hopes she will be able to find some peace.

In fact, part of him wants to join her. He would not mind some time away from the others and the usual noise of fireside tales and banter, and his concern for her is still at a peak after what they have learned that day. But if she had wanted his company, he would know it, and she had not so much as looked his way as she'd left. She truly wishes to be alone it seems, and he would give her that, he will not intrude where he has not been invited.

He also does his best to reign in his protective impulses where she is concerned, a difficult task after today. He still would like to address some of what they encountered today with her, her lack of caution in the chantry for one. However, he remembers that she is no longer the helpless girl making her way up a mountain, cold and scared. She has become formidable in her abilities as a fighter and a mage, and she leads now with and increasingly firm determination.

He can still feel her presence on the edge of his perceptions, he can tell she has not gone so far as to be undetectable, and if she calls they will all be alerted to assist with little delay. These facts do little to calm his worries, but he will leave her be, to find what peace of mind she may before facing this next challenge.

Unfortunately, the others do not seem quite so willing to let it be.

"The Herald has been gone a long time, did anyone see where she went," Cassandra asks after not much more than five minutes.

"Hmmm, it isn't really like her to be gone this long, do you think something's wrong?" Varric says next, a hint of concern in his usually laidback manner.

Solas decides he'd better address the issue before their concerns grow, "I believe she has decided to take some time alone. Today has been quite full of disturbing revelations and it is likely she needs to clear her mind in order to deal with them appropriately, especially in anticipation of what we will face tomorrow," he tells them, hoping it will be satisfactory.

"That's probably a good idea," Bryn comments thoughtfully, "proper mental preparation before such a challenging fight will be valuable."

"But she _is_ being hunted by that Tevinter cult," Blackwall adds, "it might not be a good idea for her to be alone this close to Redcliffe."

"I think someone should keep an eye on her," Cassandra agrees, "Perhaps I should go."

He isn't sure why, but Solas feels fairly certain Lavellan will not take it well if Cassandra shows up. If one thing had been clear when she left, it was her intent to separate herself from them. It is likely anyone's presence will be an intrusion to her, but however the Seeker means well, her approach will likely be the most unwelcome.

"I will go," he says firmly, standing at the same time as the Seeker. "I will see that she is safe and returns within a reasonable amount of time."

She simply gives him a nod and he heads out, away from the circle of light in the direction he knows Lavellan to be.

Renewed chatter breaks out behind him but he is too focused ahead to pay much attention. He can feel the calm in her now, but it won't be long before she detects his approach. He walks slowly, to give her as much time as he can but he can feel a conflicted tension in her rise the closer he gets. She is not quite angry, but it is clear she does not want even him there.

She is sitting on a large stone, hands pressed into the rough surface and eyes focused outward, taking in the night around her. He finally stops just off to the side to stand silently. He is not sure if he should speak, but when she remains silent for several long moments he does, "I'm sorry," he says softly, "The others were getting worried about you being out here alone. I volunteered to check on you. I'm sure you would prefer to be alone, but I thought you might find my presence the least objectionable."

He waits a few moments, but the silence continues. It is not one of their usually comfortable silences. Though there is no hostility, he can tell she still feels this to be an intrusion, it was especially clear when he mentioned his reasons for coming. He isn't sure what to do, perhaps there is a compromise to be made, "If you prefer, I will go back to tell them you are fine and explain that I will be able to sense if you find yourself in any distress, perhaps that will satisfy them for a while."

He's not sure it will be accepted but he might be able to argue on her behalf. He is sure that he does not wish his presence to become any kind of burden on her, the idea that she might start to find being around him unpleasant disturbs him much more than he knows it should.

A few more tense moments of silence pass before she finally answers, "It's okay, you can stay," she tells him, patting the stone next to her.

He still hesitates though, tasting resignation in the air around her. It is not ideal, but perhaps it is the best option, so he does move to sit next to her, careful to keep some distance between them so she will not feel crowded. He does not speak, but rather spends the next few minutes trying to follow her example, calming his mind and simply looking out at the world before them until finally they both seem to find a still peace between them.

He is still not quite as successful at it as she seems to be, her aura becoming utterly still, breath silent, barely any movement. Simply being near her now seems to help him relax as well. Unlike her, however, he finds he cannot find quite the same stillness she does. Instead he finds himself replaying the day and the number of disturbing circumstances they encountered. They are away from the others now, but he can tell this is not the time to bring up most of his concerns. Perhaps they can wait a while longer. They will leave the area in the morning to face other pressing matters. They will likely have to return to Redcliffe again, and perhaps sometime before then he can find a better moment.

She seems utterly lost to the night, with no intention to return on her own anytime soon, but he will have to find a way to bring her back, something less jarring than one of the others coming to find them, as they will inevitably do if he does not get her back soon.

He looks her way and takes a silent breath before reaching out his hand to lay it lightly on top of hers, the slight tremor to her aura signaling her awareness of the move. She seems to be holding on stubbornly to the calm she'd found and it takes a couple of minutes of slowly increased pressure before she seems to return to awareness. It still surprises him though when she turns her hand to return the grip.

She seems calmer now, but below that, he can tell she remains anxious and unsatisfied with the situation. They are running out of time however, "The others will likely be getting worried again soon," he tells her, voice only loud enough to be heard, "I'm afraid it would be best if we return to camp before they send someone else."

He hears her sigh, feels it, but she squeezes his hand. They stand together, hand in hand before she turns to face him, a warmer feeling rising from her now.

"Thank you," she says softly, meeting his eyes.

It is not the response he'd expected, "For what?" he asks, unsure.

"For being you. For understanding. I'm glad you're the one who came out here." She smiles slightly, still looking up at him.

"You're welcome," he tells her, marveling at her, slightly stunned by the sudden declaration. As he looks at her he takes in the planes of her face, outlined by the moonlight. He wishes he could reach out and trace those lines with his fingers. He thinks she would let him, imagines her leaning into the touch...

A moment later these thoughts are stalled when she lets go of his hand, "I guess we'd better go." Her voice is cooler now and she seems to be preparing herself to go back, distancing herself, pulling back. Her frustration rises as they get closer to the camp, the desire in her to walk away again fairly clear. It isn't a good sign.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so late you guys! My brain got caught up writing other parts of the story and I got started on this later than I wanted. Add to that various distractions and such and it just got later and later. Still, the next update should still happen on the usual day. 
> 
> As always thanks for reading, you guys are the best.  
> You can always find me on tumblr too (@mayonaka-no-tenshi). I don't post a whole lot but would be happy to take questions and prompts, or chat if you ever feel up to it. 
> 
> Have a great one! Take care!


	18. Protective Impulses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Ch38- beginning of Ch.39 of "Reality Dreaming"

Their arrival back in the camp starts as he expects. He can feel her annoyance rise at the bright and relatively noisy atmosphere around the camp. At times he has seen that she finds great comfort in this scene, its warmth and welcoming atmosphere, but it is clear that is not how she receives the setting this night. He can feel her all but physically pulling away from it, as if she would run from it if she could.

"What did I tell you Seeker," the dwarf says as they enter the bright circle of the camp, "Chuckles will make sure she's taken care of."

He can see that even Varric's cheerful and teasing greeting does not have its usual effect on her, it even seems to further darken her mood in fact.

"I simply believe it is best that the Herald remains closer to the camp," the Seeker says, in response to Varric's assertion, before turning back to Lavellan, "It will be easier for all of us to protect you if could refrain from venturing any distance on your own."

For a moment he is sure she will argue her case. He can feel the annoyance and frustration pushing at her restraint, but then she closes herself off instead, declaring an early bedtime and going directly to her tent. Leaving them to watch her go, surprised at the abrupt departure.

"What did you do to her Chuckles?" Varric asks with a laugh, once she is gone.

"I did nothing," he answers, looking back at the rest of them coolly. "She simply wished some time alone, which we did not allow her to have. I do not believe she is used to spending so much time in close proximity to others and it is beginning to wear on her."

"She should not be alone. It is not safe," Cassandra insists sternly.

"And yet you will set her in front of a dragon tomorrow," he counters, "Alone or not, that is never a safe position for anyone to be in, and if you do not allow her some sense of freedom she may seek to defy such restraints, and in so doing truly endanger herself."

The events of this evening seemed to have brought some hint of rebelliousness to the surface in her. He'd become aware of it as they'd headed back. At first he'd just dismissed it as a symptom of her frustrations, but on greater reflection, he realizes that is not how she tends to deal with frustrations. No, she may often lose focus and have a harder time controlling some of her emotions, but she never seemed inclined to go against any instruction while struggling with frustration. But as they'd approached the fire, he felt in her that intense desire that seemed to indicate she wanted to turn around and leave again. When they'd arrived he'd been sure she would begin to argue with Cassandra, to fight for her right to have time to herself, to have some amount of independence. In the end he'd been just as surprised as the rest of them to see her simply go to her tent with hardly another word.

Of course, she has admitted to him some uncertainties about how the others might judge her regarding her choices or actions on several occasions, perhaps this is another of those instances. Perhaps she is simply concerned how they will view her need for more solitude than she is being permitted. Perhaps she feels it would hurt their view of her if she were to argue when she knows they are simply concerned for her.

He, however, is unafraid of their judgment, and he has no qualms in arguing on her behalf.

Cassandra does seem to be considering his words, and a few moments later she finally answers, "It is not the same. We have a duty to protect the people from the dragon and we will all be there to help keep her safe. Being alone while we camp is an unnecessary risk."

"In other words you are willing to allow her to risk herself only for the sake of the Inquisition's needs, and she is to have no say in what may be necessary for herself?" he asks, plainly.

"It is for her own safety," Cassandra insists, albeit with a hint of uncertainty. "I am sure the Herald will understand."

He addresses her seriously, "I am almost certain she does understand, but that does not mean that she agrees, or that she will not defy you."

Somehow this seems to aggravate Cassandra, he can see the muscles in her face tighten but she seems to be at a loss for the moment.

He braces for her rebuttal, but it is Bryn who speaks first.

"I think Solas may be right," she says in a calm but serious tone, a thoughtful look on her face. She looks at him then, while she continues, "Besides, he likely knows her better than any of us and if he suspects she will act defiantly if pushed, I am inclined to believe him. I've started to see distinct changes in her myself," she adds, looking back at Cassandra, "As her skill has grown, so has her confidence, and it is beginning to reveal what seems to be something of an independent streak we haven't seen yet, likely because circumstances had previously forced her to be so dependent on us. Now that she no longer needs to depend on us for her survival, she may be more likely to act on her own if she decides its for something she thinks is important."

There is silence for a few moments before Varric decides to add his own thoughts, "I hate to say it, but I think they may be right Seeker. She has changed. I don't think she wants to go against us, but I can't say what she might do if forced to just do whatever we tell her. She is Dalish after all, they aren't particularly well known for submitting to what others want."

Even Blackwall speaks up, "I know I haven't been with you long, but I've seen the Herald fight. I don't think she's helpless and I don't see why she shouldn't have her space from time to time."

Sera had been unusually silent through all of this but she finally throws her own two coppers, "Don't worry, if some baddie shows up she can just give a scream and I'll put an arrow through 'em. She ain't goin' miles away, yeah?"

Clearly Cassandra is not pleased by what she hears, "I still do not like it," she says with a slight huff, unwilling to relent just yet. "We cannot guarantee her safety if she is on her own."

"And you cannot guarantee her safety tomorrow either, or in any other battle for that matter," Solas returns. "Life rarely provides us with such guarantees but generally it is better to accept small risks in place of larger ones. If the Herald feels she will be allowed to seek her space, she will not make it difficult for us to find her when needed. If she feels she must find solitude in spite of being instructed otherwise, she may put herself in a less secure position in order to forestall any intrusion from us. It seems the wiser course if we do not set ourselves in opposition to something she clearly values."

Cassandra seems to search for some new argument but finally just gives a sound of frustrated and reluctant resignation, "Fine, provided she remains near enough that we can respond should trouble arise, she may have her space."

He inclines his head slightly to acknowledge her concession. "I am sure she will appreciate it," he tells her. "Perhaps it will be best if you inform her of this decision, I believe it will carry more weight from you."

"I shall tell her in the morning then," Cassandra answers still clearly unhappy about it as turns her gaze back into the fire before returning her focus to the cleaning of her blade, a rather pensive expression on her face.

He hopes the Seeker will see the wisdom in this decision. He too understands the wish to keep Lavellan safe, but he knows her too, and understands her need for space, for time to think, away from the distractions of others. He knows that any desire, if strong enough, can push a person to take risks they would not otherwise. He would prefer not to push her that far for something so easily achieved.

He soon decides it is likely best if he retire as well. There is still much from the events of the day he wishes to consider. He heads to his tent, intent upon entering the Fade quickly to consult with Wisdom. There are too many disturbing circumstances in Redcliffe than can be safely ignored, and he would like to search for answers while everything remains fresh in his mind.

 

***

 

He wakes the next morning, unsatisfied with the night's efforts. All discussion with Wisdom and what other efforts at finding information he'd made before morning, only seemed to create more questions and provide no helpful answers. He knows little more than he did before, only certain that the Veil of Redcliffe has been warped in some way. Unfortunately, he still has no idea what kinds of effects it will have or how it might be repaired, or even if it _can_ be repaired. He'd been so concerned about the condition of the Veil, he hadn't had time to explore the recent memories of the place. Perhaps he should have done so first, perhaps there is some clue in the events during the arrival of the Tevinter mages that might help him. There is no time left however, they might be able to return to the camp after taking care of the dragon, but he suspects it is unlikely. He can only hope another opportunity will present itself sometime in the future, or they will otherwise find the answers, before it is too late.

He is somewhat distracted from these ruminations when he notices Lavellan's emergence. She seems calm, but he can detect little else. He watches closely as Cassandra approaches her though. During their conversation, he catches a flare of emotion, stifled too quickly to get a full sense of it, but he almost thinks it is anger. What did Cassandra say to her, he wonders. But when the Seeker walks away again they seem amiable and calm.

He has little time to consider further as he sets about the usual morning routines during the usual preparations for their imminent departure. He remains curious as to her state of mind, however, and he's been able to get little from her since she'd retired the night before. Her walls are up, but he is unsure why.

He tries to catch her eye in passing while they work, but she always seems to just be looking away as her turns to her, or facing in a different direction entirely. It is so frequent he suspects it must be deliberate, but still he can find no explanation for her behavior.

It bothers him. It becomes a distraction, keeping his mind from other matters, as they finish their preparations and get underway.

She rides ahead as usual and otherwise behaves normally, but she remains closed to his senses and still seems unwilling to even look at him.

Eventually he decides there is no point in dragging it out and he heads to the front to find out what is going on. Surely she will not expect him to simply ignore such unusual behavior.

She says nothing as he pulls his horse even with hers.

She remains silent, but he waits, hoping she will open up to him on her own, he would prefer not to push when it is clear she is deliberately holding back from him.

Finally she speaks.

"Cassandra came and talked to me this morning about the situation last night," she says. "Apparently, it was decided I would be allowed the freedom to have time to myself when I need it."

Her voice is even and calm but the words come out somewhat clipped, indicating some displeasure, and she still will not look at him. Something is clearly wrong, but he is still unable to determine what.

"You do not seem pleased, I had thought that is what you wanted," he says carefully, hoping she will offer some explanation.

"Yes, it's the outcome I was hoping for, I just don't really like how it came about," her words are still careful but she does turn to look at him now and he is met with an expression he has not seen directed at him before, not quite a glare but there seems to be anger and disappointment.

"I'm afraid I do not understand," he tells her, baffled.

"Cassandra told me you argued on my behalf and then everyone discussed it before finally deciding I'd be allowed my freedom. Do you see anything wrong with that picture?" she asks.

Her question catches him off guard and he cannot see what problem she might be indicating.

" _Where was I_ while all of you were deciding what I could or could not do?" she finally tells him, her voice filled with feeling.

The sound of the words ring in his ears, though the volume has not increased, and understanding begins to dawn. With her words, some of the emotion leaks out as well and it is clear she is angry. At him.

"I have little enough control over my life right now," she goes on, looking away again, "This whole matter stemmed from people making decisions for me. Just because things are now decided in my favor doesn't make the fact that I have been entirely left out of the decision process any better. I think I have a right to at least be present. It would be one thing if I was not around to speak for myself, but I _was_ there, in my tent, only short distance away. If it was so urgent to talk about it right away, someone could have gotten me. _Or_ , you could have waited until I was ready to deal with the issue on my own terms."

He listened as she explained with quick, impassioned words, though her voice remained low. It made so much sense now, it should have been obvious, but he had not even considered such things at the time.

She begins speaking again, more softly this time, "Listen, I understand that you had my interests at heart and you wanted to help, and I do appreciate that, but I need to be allowed to speak on my own behalf, I need to be involved in the decisions that affect my own self."

Her voice has an almost pleading note in it and it draws him to meet her eyes.

"Back me up, by all means, it means a lot that you support me, but I have to be a part of the process. Otherwise it's ultimately no better than what Cassandra was doing in the first place. I truly appreciate your desire to help, but sometimes I need to do things myself, and at the very least, I need to be included in decisions that are going to directly affect me. ... OK?"

He suddenly feels struck dumb as he takes in the woman before him. He feels some guilt, of course, but seeing her now, how far she has come, the person she has become, strikes him anew. She is no longer the mere hapless victim of his ill-considered plans. She is no longer the frightened girl on the mountain. She is no longer one who follows out of the need to survive and a simple wish to help. She has become strong and capable. She is at the head of their party, becoming more a leader every day and trying to take control of her own course while doing everything she can to not only aid their cause, but to protect those close to her.

He looks away, thinking hard. She is trying to be a leader, to guide her own fate and he fundamentally undermined that for her. She did not voice her frustrations and argue last night. Of course she didn't. She is not the type to rush in, fueled by emotion, if she has any choice. She'd made that blatantly clear during some of their conversations in Haven.

No, she would have preferred to calm down, think things through, and then argued her case from a position of calm authority and reason. He had taken it upon himself to fight her battles for her and she did not need that from him.

He is almost lost in thought as he considers the situation, wishing he had acted differently, realized sooner; but the tremor of worry that he catches from her brings him back to the moment. He must find some way to respond, but he knows nothing that would be adequate.

"Ir abelas," he finally offers.

What more can he give but these humble, heartfelt words, when his pride had betrayed her.

"I am truly sorry, and you are right to be angry," he continues, after another moment. "You made it clear at the time that it was not an issue you wished to deal with at that moment, but rather than let it be, and allow you to handle it as you saw fit, I stepped in to deal with it for you. I admit I was only thinking of the result. I knew how frustrated you were with the situation and only wished to eliminate the cause of that immediate frustration. I acted on impulse, without considering the implications of my actions, it is inexcusable."

It is all excuses, but it is the only explanation he has to offer and she has a right to know.

She sighs, and he feels the last of her anger leave with the breath.

"No, it was a mistake," she says gently, "You tried to be a good friend and ended up going about it in a... not quite ideal way. ... It's alright. I think we can just leave it at that."

He can tell she means it, and it is in character for her, but it is surprising nonetheless after how upset she'd clearly been, "I am surprised you would forgive me so quickly. I am certain I do not deserve it."

"Really?" she asks, "You listened to what I had to say, you seem to understand why I was angry in the first place, you took responsibility for your actions rather than argue, and you apologized. I don't see any reason why I shouldn't forgive you. It's a minor offense in the great scheme of things, and I'm sure you will be more mindful of similar issues in the future, I see no point in holding a grudge. Besides, I hate being angry, remember? I'm happy to have an excuse to return to my usual calm self."

She finishes with a smile he cannot help but return. He has underestimated her yet again, even when he knows better. He does not deserve her. For all his sins, he does not deserve even the smallest of them to be forgiven by her.

"You are too generous with me," he tells her, unable to stop the warmth in him from spreading, knowing she had indeed forgiven him, her aura making that very clear.

"Nonsense, I am just the perfect amount of generous," she tells him, winking cheerfully. "Anyway, if I stay mad at you, I can't tell you about what I did in the Fade last night."

He almost stops breathing at those last words. On top of everything else, her explorations of the Fade, friendship with spirits, and willingness to share some of these experiences with him, has always been one of the most amazing things about her.

"Well you certainly have my attention now," he tells her, though he does his best to conceal the extent of his feelings just then, "I will agree to concede your level of generosity if you sate my curiosity and reveal the nature of these activities which seem to have given you an air of eagerness despite the imminent prospect of facing a full grown dragon in battle."

She begins to explain her idea to enlist the aid of various spirits and use the Fade to help her learn how to defeat a dragon and prepare for the fight ahead. He must admit it is an inspired idea on it's own, but as she describes the sheer variety of spirits she works with it is truly astounding. He had not realized she had met so many. He is acquainted with many spirits himself and will seek them out to consult from time to time but there are very few he seeks out repeatedly, yet she seems to have several friends among these spirits that spend a great deal of time with her. However, it has been a long time since he has witnessed them congregating in the numbers she is describing now.

Much of what she describes leaves him with many questions he longs to ask, but he sets most of these aside for the time being so they may focus on the issue of the dragon, a far more immediate and pressing matter. Even so, it is fascinating to listen as she describes what she'd seen.

They finally stop talking when they notice the scout heading towards them. He is unsure how long they have been talking but he realizes then that the others are still behind them at some distance. It is unusual that they have not been interrupted before now.

As the scout gets nearer however, the others do come forward and they are met with some curiosity regarding what clearly appeared to be a fairly animated conversation.

They are both careful in how they explain what they are talking about, but the promise of a plan that might help them kill the dragon manages to keep the others from questioning too closely how she acquired this new information, especially when the scout reaches them again, effectively pulling all their focus to what lies ahead.

 

It isn't much longer before they hear the dragon and know they are getting close. He can sense the tension rise throughout their party, but of course it is Lavellan he focuses on. There is a thrill of fear mixed with excitement in her. The anticipation only grows as they draw nearer, choosing a place to leave the horses.

He too feels the anticipation of battle rise up in him. It is a familiar feeling really. He has fought many battles, against many adversaries. These days, however, he fears more for her than for himself. Usually this is a small fear. He knows her capable in facing men and demons, and they are all there to aid her and protect her. But a dragon is no ordinary foe, they are immensely powerful and unpredictable. Though she will not be facing it alone, the danger is very real.

It is hard for him to concentrate on anything but her as they make their way closer and closer to the dragon, but he tries. He will need all his awareness and strength to face the fight ahead of them. Her goal will be to keep them all safe, and to keep her safe he must share in that goal. He uses the time it takes them to approach the area the dragon has claimed, to focus his mind and prepare for what lies ahead.

By the time the dragon comes into view, he feels a cool focus overtake him and he knows he is ready.

Lavellan's excitement and fear peaks as she catches sight of the massive creature, but he can tell she remains in control of herself. She will not panic, nor act impulsively.

Once they have all taken a minute to take in the scene around them, they start to formulate a plan.

He looks at the Warden with approval when the man suggests Lavellan share the strategies she'd discovered in dreams the night before.

She had shared with him some of what she was thinking earlier as she'd described the previous night's activities in the Fade, but at the time, it came out as a somewhat jumbled and disjointed collection of observations and ideas, nothing one could quite call a plan yet, and these had been intermixed with discussion of the Fade and spirits, as she'd experienced the visions they showed her.

Now, however, it became apparent that she had been forming all she had seen there into the real strategy she presented to them now.

He listens carefully as she recommends going against all their original plans from the night before, suggesting they try to control the pattern of the fight, try to manipulate the dragon into acting in a predictable manner so that a precise strike to kill it can be carried out.

Once she has their attention, she lays out the details of the plan, "First, I don't think we should waste time taking out the wings. If it tries to fly off and attack from above we take cover and use barriers until it lands again. While it's on the ground Varric and Sera will take charge of directing its attention. We want to keep its focus directed ahead. Noise, lights, chaos, whatever, so that it is not so aware of what else is going on around it. Solas and I will support the distraction efforts as well as keep defenses in place. Cassandra and Blackwall you should position yourselves to be ready to strike at the earliest opportunity. You have the power and the more appropriate weapons to strike the necessary blow on something this large, but you will also be in the most dangerous position, as you will have to get in very close. The weakest point seems to be right where the head and neck meet. If you can get a strike from a good angle below the skull we can potentially kill it in one blow. I can't really tell you precisely where the best spot is to kill it quickly, I'm afraid, so I suppose that might require some luck and maybe a little trial and error, just be aware that any failed attempts are likely to draw the attention of the dragon so be on your guard. If you think you can behead it quickly, that is also an option, I'll leave it to your judgment. Finally, Bryn, you're fast and have a keen eye so I'd like you to help us coordinate our actions, help us direct our efforts as seems most appropriate and step in when and where you feel extra help is needed."

He can tell the others are impressed by the plan and he cannot help but be proud of that fact. More than that, she was only able to create this plan by enlisting the aid of spirits and being willing to explore the Fade and all it's wonders without succumbing to the fear nearly every inhabitant of this time seems to promote regarding the other side of the Veil. The plan is a good one, but it is the knowledge in how she was able to create it that gives him such pride in her.

The others seem to agree that the plan has merits, and they discuss the details before finally agreeing on the proposed course of action.

Despite his confidence in her, he is somewhat relieved to know he will be able to remain beside her for this fight, and also to know she does not intend to put herself directly in the dragon's path. He'd been somewhat concerned she would wish to be the one to make the killing blow, but it seems her pride does not require such an accomplishment and she is satisfied to simply provide support from the sidelines. It is an important role, but he knows many would prefer to be able to claim the achievement of actually killing a dragon, than just having aided in killing one. Yet another illustration of how remarkable the woman is.

Still, it is more important knowing she will be close and not in direct danger. Though he had prepared himself, he knows it will be easier for him to maintain the focus he needs, with her nearby. He will need to work on this in the future, chances are he will not always be able to stay close to her, and she will certainly face many dangers head on. On those occasions he will have to fight just as well as he will now, but today... today, it is one less concern he will have to face.

They all make their final preparation and then head out into the open. Together they will kill this dragon.


	19. Slaying Dragons and Brewing Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to Ch.39-41 or Reality Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I have an update for you guys. So sorry for the wait.

The dragon does not take notice of them right away, as they move across the mostly open area towards it. None of them know how best to catch the creature's attention. They can only hope seeing their group charging it's way will be considered enough of a threat that it will fly down to meet them. At the very least, perhaps it will be hungry and decide they would make a good meal.

Finally, they see the creature open it's wings and leap from the height it was perched upon, passing above their heads in a only a few beats of it's wings.

It flies past them and they watch, waiting to see if it will continue on and lead them on a chase, or whether it will turn back and try to deal with their intrusion upon it's claimed territory.

He is fairly certain it will turn, dragons are known for being highly territorial, especially the full-grown adults, but there is a moment when they all hold their breath, waiting.

After a few tense seconds they finally see the dragon begin to turn, its shadow gliding across the sky as it maneuvers back in their direction.

They brace themselves, ready for the attack that is sure to come.

He sees the fire, they all do, but there is only a tense silence as they watch the course of the flames streaking towards them. A shout from Bryn and they move out of the way from where they can see the projectiles will land.

Everything feels like it has slowed down now. The dragon turns again in another slow arc, Sera fires an arrow and fire streaks towards them anew, the dragon giving an earsplitting roar. Another turn and he sees the change in the angle as it prepares to land.

As the dragon touches the ground, their party scatters, quickly moving to the agreed upon positions, so the real fight can begin.

Barriers are up and he can still see everyone in their party. He and Lavellan begin with bright flashes to distract the dragon as Sera and Varric get into position and take over the efforts of controlling the dragon's movements.

The dragon is focused where they want it now and the two warriors begin their approach from behind. He conceals their path with smoke, she bolsters the barriers as the dragon sends fire towards the threat it is currently following. Then Bryn is moving, the dragon will have to be guided around in a new direction with more room.

As Bryn moves past the denser cover he feels a flare of magic at his side. It is not a spell he is familiar with, and he follows the trail of power to where it leads, effectively concealing Bryn's movements from the notice of the dragon or anyone not directly looking her way.

He wants to question her, but all of Lavellan's focus is on the task and he dares not break it, not now. He waits until the danger is passed and the magic is released. He checks the defenses but everything is stable and strong, "What did you do?" he asks curiously in the short reprieve.

"I don't really know," she tells him, "I was kind of acting on instinct."

He considers this as he continues to monitor the others. It is another breakthrough for her. She is becoming familiar and comfortable enough with magic now that she is able to channel it in new creative ways, something a circle mage would never be able to do with their strict training and adherence to rules. Such spontaneous creativity, would never be allowed, but this situation demonstrates the advantages of it. A truly strong mage is flexible and able to call upon their magic and use it as the situation calls for it. He has often found Circle trained mages to be predictable as a result of the regimented training they undergo. It is very gratifying to see the progress she is making, but there is no time to focus on it now, not until the dragon is dead.

They see the dragon's direction shift and begin to move to accommodate the change.

The next events occur so quickly there is hardly the chance to think. An explosion goes off where it shouldn't and a moment later the dragon is turning towards them. He can see the intake of breath, as the dragon catches sight of them, body following the head's lead. He knows what is about to happen and there is no time. He could put up a barrier, but that would just put them on the defensive, they need a plan of attack. There is no time to communicate any of this to Lavellan however, and they need time.

"Can you do it again?" He asks, trying to remain calm. He has an idea but as the dragon rears before them he can feel a sense of panic begin to rise in her.

"I think so," she answers, trying to hold back the fear.

"Do it. We have to move. Now." he commands.

He begins to cast as he feels her pull on her magic shifting the Veil around them and together, they move.

They get out of the way just in time but the heat behind them is intense. The resulting smoke helps to conceal them once they are out of the way, and the illusions he's fashioned should be enough to hold the dragons attention for a few seconds. He takes a second to catch his breath and begin gathering his energy for their next move.

"Wait, can't you just fade step us out of here or something?" she asks a second later.

"I could but we are not trying to escape, I just needed to buy us some time," he tells her.

"We're not?" she asks, looking back at where they came from, seeing the images still standing amidst the flames.

Time is limited, they will have to move soon or lose their opportunity. He wants to ask her to stay here, to let him handle it, but he knows she would never accept that, even if he were not likely need her help anyway. It is not what he wants, but it is the only way.

"I could not fade step and cast my other spell simultaneously, but it seems we are now in the best position to distract the dragon. I think we should hold it's attention ourselves until the others can strike, but I can go alone if you would prefer to remain here," he offers in the merest hope she will accept.

"I'm coming with you," comes her expected answer.

He can feel her fear, but that familiar determination is right there with it.

He nods, accepting the inevitable.

"I cannot maintain them much longer, if you are ready, I suggest we get closer and do our best to hold the dragon's attention. Hopefully the Seeker and the Warden will find their opportunity soon," he says, preparing himself.

"Okay, let's do this," she responds, doing the same.

"I will fade step us back into position, are you ready?" At her nod, he takes her hand and warps the Veil around them and fade steps them back into position.

Barriers are around them a moment later and they begin to cast, doing their best to hold the beast's attention as it advances towards them. They keep up a steady pattern of casting, each falling into a rhythm that complements the other. Their attacks stagger and alternate so that while one casts the other can collect their energy. It works brilliantly, the dragon continues to advance and hold them in its sights. They do their best to dodge the fire shot their way, but the barriers are forced to absorb much of the damage and the energy it's taking them to maintain their defenses, while simultaneously keeping up their attacks is beginning to wear on them. He cannot tell what is happening with the Seeker and the Warden, but they are taking too long, he and Lavellan will not be able to hold out much longer at this pace and he can see the dragon too is becoming impatient.

He wonders what they should do and begins to consider their options. However, it seems Lavellan is ahead of him in this.

"Solas, if we hit it with ice do you think we could stop it from moving for a moment, or at least slow it down?" She asks, her breath becoming ragged from exertion.

He considers a moment and believes it may be their best option, but it will not be easy.

"It is worth a try," he answers. "In any case, we will not be able to maintain this pace for much longer. Gather your energy, when you are ready we will cast together and hope the others are ready to strike."

They reduce the power and frequency of their attacks slightly, and sacrifice channeling any more energy into their defenses, completely focused on preparing for this final spell.

Lavellan catches sight of Bryn, and manages to communicate their plan. He hopes it will be enough, hopes she can relate the message in time because in a few more seconds they will have to act or risk the dragon taking off.

As though they are thinking the same thing, he and Lavellan let the dragon advance on them, allowing it in closer, tempting it, keeping it grounded a little longer and drawing it's head lower where the others might better be able to attack.

As the head of the beast shifts lower, eyes full of murderous intent, he catches sight of Bryn moving up along the neck towards where the warriors should be positioned. He looks over and catches Lavellan's eye. They wait another breath and without words they agree it is time.

He feels their power unleash at the same moment. The spell is stronger than he'd expected, he can feel she is not holding back at all, letting all her energy out into the spell. He can sense the danger but it is too late to say anything as their magic pushes forward in a rush, slamming into the immense form still advancing on them.

Then a moment as everything seems to slow down, the last of their magic expended. He can tell she is watching the dragon but he turns some of his attention to her. Had she expended too much? He should have warned her about letting go of too much energy.

Before he can assess her condition though, he sees the ice form around the dragon like diamond growing out of its skin and bringing everything to a slow halt until the force of a blow sends a shudder through the crystalline countenance of the dragon. A second blow a moment later, shatters the glittering sheath into a million fragments, light dancing off the shards in an impressive display as the death roar of the creature fills the air around them. He watches as the dragons head drops to the ground, finally still, the echoes of that final roar ringing in his ears a moment longer before it's replaced with sudden silence, the world around them seeming almost frozen in the aftermath.

He hears Lavellan let out a slow sighing breath and it brings him back to the moment, back to the memory of what they'd just done. He can feel weakness begin to overtake him, but he turns his focus to her. She looks like she's about to take a step forward but instead she slowly crumples to the ground.

For a moment he thinks she will lose consciousness. He wants to move towards her, to catch her, but his own weakness prevents him. He can feel the unsteadiness in his limbs and if he moves too quickly, he may well collapse too. She remains awake, however, but he still moves towards her, careful in his movements. Once he is close enough, he let's himself sink to the ground beside her. He knows there is not much he can do for her in his current condition, but he feels compelled to be within reach of her, as if he might offer some defense of her while she is in this state.

He wonders for a moment if he shouldn't have held back more himself, but he knows that any less than what they'd done might not have been enough, it almost hadn't been as it was, the magic almost hadn't taken hold against the dragon's formidable defenses.

"Are you all right?" he asks after taking a careful breath, trying to steady himself and his voice is quiet but steady as he tries not to betray his own condition too much.

She nods into her hands and he can feel the tremor of distress in her at the movement, and he has to hold himself back from instinctually reaching out to her.

"I think so," she replies after a moment, "It just took a lot out of me. I'll take an elfroot potion in a minute, that should help."

He would smile if he had the energy, listening to her as she does her best to put forth a level of stoicism despite her obvious vulnerability. Instead he informs her that elfroot will not help her in this instance and that she will likely need to settle for traditional rest due to their lack of lyrium potions.

She seems to accept the information in stride, "Sounds good to me. Do you think you could just ask them to build my tent around me, I'm not sure I'll be able to move for a while."

Clearly she is not so drained as to have lost her good spirits and he doesn't try to hold back a soft laugh at her comment, "Perhaps you can ask them for yourself," he tells her, noticing the slight smile she wears, relieved to know she has not been as adversely affected as he had feared.

The others reach them and he informs them of their condition and their need for time to recover. It doesn't take long for a course of action to be decided. They will camp in the area for tonight at least.

Cassandra and Bryn soon head off to retrieve the horses and supplies that had been left with the scout. Shortly after, Varric and Sera go to find food and Blackwall departs to gather firewood.

Silence falls over the area once everyone is gone and he and Lyara are left alone, still in the same positions they'd collapsed in.

"I wish I had my bedroll," he hears her mumble, head still leaning forward into her arms, "this position is really uncomfortable but I think I'm about to fall asleep and I doubt the ground is going to feel much better. Can you tell me if there are any rocks behind me? Perhaps I should just lay back."

He glances behind her to the hard ground. He's sure she could fall asleep in almost any position at this point but, in the open, stretched out on this ground, hardly seems ideal. He turns his head, looking around for something better. He knows they won't be able to move far, but surely there is a better option.

He finally spots a tree a little farther away than he'd like, but it really seems like it's going to be the best they can do. He's fairly sure he has enough strength to help her get there. He looks over at her again and is determined to do so.

"Do you think you could walk a short distance if I could offer you a slightly more comfortable option?" he asks softly.

She finally lifts her head, turning tired, but focused eyes to meet his. She seems almost frozen for several long moments, but her aura, weak though it is, is peaceful, almost content it seems, and he lets himself look into her eyes for as long as she wishes to hold his gaze.

"I think I could manage it, ...if it really will be more comfortable," she finally answers, blinking slowly as if waking from a trance.

"I believe it should be satisfactory," he answers, already thinking of how they will get there, how he will need to support her. He knows it is probably inappropriate for him to enjoy such thoughts, especially at a time like this, but exhaustion seems to have made him a little less restrained in his thoughts than usual.

Still, the prospect does aid him in getting to his feet and reaching out to help her up. Her slight weight does little to strain him and he holds onto her carefully as she finds her balance. It is evident she cannot get far on her own and he quickly puts an arm around her, "You may lean on me if you need."

This close he can feel the flutter of amusement in her weakened aura but it is quickly followed by something softer, warmer, as she places an arm around him in return, settling into him, letting a little of her weight shift to his side. Despite the exhaustion he cannot deny how good it feels to have her this close, warm and yielding against him.

Much as he would have liked to just enjoy the sensation for a moment, he knows neither of their strength will hold out long, so he begins guiding her towards the tree he's targeted as their destination.

A minute or two later they reach the intended destination, "This should at least provide better support for our backs."

Instead of releasing her hold on him though, she tightens the arm she has around him, pulling herself in closer, and before he can even think, he does the same, enjoying the sensation for a few moments. Soon he relaxes though, helping to shift her around so he can easily help lower her before the tree. Once she is safely settled, he can feel his own exhaustion begin to overtake him. He somehow manages to lower himself down beside her, leaning back against the bark with a deep breath, eyes closed as he tries to recover a bit.

Awareness returns to him when he feels Lyara shift, bringing her body up against his, leaning her head on his shoulder without a word, arms lightly hugging herself as she settles, eyes closed as exhaustion overtakes her.

He adjusts slightly to allow her a more stable position, and shifts his own arm back behind her, letting his hand fall by her side. He's vaguely aware that he really shouldn't be this close to her but such thoughts are pushed aside by the rationale that it is better to make sure she is supported and safe, that it has nothing to do with how good it feels to have her there.

He feels her breathing slow and her aura go quiet, as sleep overtakes her.

He sighs gently, careful not to disturb her sleeping form, as his own tiredness reasserts itself. He knows he must not sleep just yet. There is little chance of danger but without the ability to set wards or any other form of defense it would be foolish for them both to simply fall asleep. So he waits, doing his best to stay alert and focus on their surroundings, and not succumb to exhaustion and the warm presence at his side.

The minutes stretch out as he struggles to remain conscious but Blackwall finally returns, arms full of wood for the fire. After a short exchange, Solas too finally gives in to the pull of sleep, falling into the Fade.

 

****

 

He wakes to the sound of his name and a gentle shake to his arm. Eyes open, he quickly takes in the scene around him: fire, tents, Varric standing over him, and Lyara still leaning against his side, sound asleep.

"Great, I was afraid I'd have to shake a lot harder to wake you up," the dwarf says with a smile, "Food's ready and camp is all set up. I'll leave it to you to wake Midnight, she had a bit of a rude awakening earlier but I'm sure you'll find a more pleasant way to wake her up," he says with a wink.

"Thank you, we will be there in a minute," Solas answers, nonplussed. He watches the man walk back to the others before turning to look at the woman sleeping peacefully against him.

He is feeling notably better, though still considerably weak. It had been more difficult than usual for him to enter the Fade but once he had he'd been able to regain some energy there. He suspects it is very unlikely that she will have been able to enter the Fade at all and will likely be just as exhausted as when she fell asleep. He hopes Cassandra has managed to acquire some lyrium potion or Lyara's recovery might take significant time.

He is hesitant to disturb her but she will need to eat and it will be better for her to sleep on her bedroll rather than against this tree much longer.

He calls to her softly, first as 'Herald', then 'Lavellan'. When neither of those elicit any response he finally tries "Lyara...Lyara?"

Saying the name out loud feels strange but natural at the same time, and it seems to have an effect. She is stirring slightly now and he says her name a few more times, hoping to coax her further into wakefulness. The slight upturn of lips and shift in her aura signals that he is successful, but he says it one more time anyway, "Lyara?"

She finally lifts her head, coming fully awake, though her eyes remain closed.

"You should wake now," he tells her, "You will be able to sleep again once you have eaten, the tents have already been prepared."

After a few moments he manages to convince her to move, so he stands and reaches out to help her up, supporting her as she flexes stiff limbs. Some of his concern is alleviated once she starts asking questions. Knowing she is not so adversely affected that her usual endless curiosity persists even through her exhaustion, is a kind of relief, though he knows it would not be appropriate to tax her with too many answers just now.

They make it to the circle around the fire and the others greet them. To his relief Cassandra has managed to acquire the potion. There is only one, but that will hopefully be enough to at least aid in Lyara's recovery, he himself should be fine once he's had more sleep.

He can tell she wants to argue but after only slight hesitation she accepts the potion and drinks it without a word.

It is interesting to watch her though, as she examines the bottle and it's contents, then as she drinks it, taking in the sensation as the liquid touches her tongue and then flows into her, and he can feel the strength of her aura increase as some of her energy is replenished.

He presumes, by her reaction, that this is her first time drinking lyrium potion, and he cannot help but enjoy watching the subtle play of emotions across her face and aura at the experience.

It is apparent to everyone a moment later that the potion has done it's work, she stands much more firmly and there is a light that has returned to her eyes, and clearly a return of her appetite. It is with relief that he watches her, feeling the power of her aura grow stronger again as well, knowing that her recovery is only a matter of time now. With the help of the lyrium she should be able to enter the Fade and Wisdom will be there to help her recover more fully.

He wishes he could be the one to assist her instead, but it would surely be folly. She has not requested any such help of him, and being close to her there... Well, for many reasons, it is wiser if he does not approach her himself, not in the Fade.

He remains with the others around the fire a short time after she has retired but he soon heads to his own tent, he too still needs to recover from the trials of the day.

He lies down on the thin bedroll and thinks back over the day's events. The truth is that they came through the fight with the dragon quite fortunate. Though things hadn't gone exactly according to plan, it had essentially worked. He remembers as he and Lavellan fought side by side to hold the dragon's attention, the way they moved and cast in perfect sync, complementing each others spells, moving in rhythm, almost a dance, without a word needing to be spoken between them. It brought home to him again how much she has changed since he first met her. She still has so much to learn, but he cannot help a glow of pride for her accomplishments.

But after the battle, when he'd realized just how much of her energy she had expended...

The expense itself would not have killed her, but if their efforts had not been successful...

It is his fault, not to have taught her about such limitations, to warn her of the effects of going to far. It worked this time, but his negligence could easily have meant her death instead.

The thought sends a sharp pang of guilt and fear to his core at the thought of her possible death and suddenly he wishes he could hold her in that moment, make sure she is alive and real, as she had been as he helped her to the tree. His hands clench at the memory of her leaning against him, an arm at his waist. She is not here though, she is in her own tent, resting and recovering, and that is where she should be, he reminds himself.

He concentrates on his breathing as he forces his focus to shift towards sleep. Even as he does so, he cannot help thinking about what it might feel like to have her there at his side.

***

He wakes fairly early the next morning, fully recovered after a full night in the Fade. It had been a somewhat frustrating night, however, as a number of spirits dogged him while he fought to contain the various emotions the day had stirred up.

After consulting with Cassandra and Bryn they decide to remain in the area another day, so he takes the opportunity to go into the surrounding areas in an effort to re-center himself.

At first he intends simply to gather any of the most useful herbs he can find, but as he discovers what the area has to offer, a new plan takes hold. He has not been able to make this particular variety of tea since waking in this world, finding the correct ingredients is not always easy and it does take considerable preparation, but with few other concerns and a reasonable supply of the necessary herbs it seems like the perfect opportunity to indulge.

The task itself of gathering everything already has him feeling more relaxed and focused than he's felt for some time. The thought of introducing Lyara to this tea has him feeling almost happy.

By the time he makes it back to camp he is relieved to hear she is awake and seems significantly recovered. He promptly heads out in the direction he can sense she has travelled.

He finds her near the dragon, aura strong and calm again as she contemplates the felled beast before her.

As they talk he cannot help but watch her, pay attention to her expression, her movements, her aura, looking for any lingering signs of the drain on her magic the day before and it is with increasing relief that he finds none. Wisdom clearly played her role well in aiding in Lyara's recovery, he will have to thank her.

They talk companionably for while, and he is further fascinated by her interactions with the spirits of the Fade, but the moment he offers his help in the Fade, he knows it is a mistake. He cannot deny the desire, but he is far too aware of the dangers of meeting her there, it is difficult enough here. But what if she decides to take him up on this offer now?

"Thank you, it's reassuring to know I can call on you there," she responds in answer, but he can feel her ambivalence, almost a mirror of his and his relief is almost palpable.

"Come," he says quickly, changing the subject, "I have gathered some herbs and can prepare a restorative tea for you I think you might enjoy."

"You're going to make me tea? I thought you didn't like tea," she says, curiosity clear in her voice as she follows him back towards the camp.

"Just because I do not generally enjoy the beverage does not mean I am not able prepare it," he tells her. "In fact, there are a few blends I do occasionally partake in but I must nearly always make them myself as few seem able to prepare them correctly."

He can tell she is smiling, even without looking, "Well, perhaps you could teach me to make one, I'm sure I could get it right with some practice."

He can't resist the laugh that emerges from his lips now. "Yes, I am certain you would. And I really should stop being surprised every time you ask me to teach you something,"

"It must be because you are such a great teacher, I feel as if I have to take the opportunity to learn as much as I can from you."

Her words and aura fill him with warmth in spite of himself, and he smiles back at her, "Then let us go and begin your first lesson in preparing _proper_ tea."

 

It doesn't take them long to get back to the camp. Lavellan goes to get paper to take notes on the preparation of the tea almost as soon as he begins explaining the requirements of the ingredients involved. He can tell she is quickly overwhelmed by all the information but she continues to pay attention to everything he tells her, making notes and asking questions to clarify various points.

She seems to grow more skeptical of the detailed process as they continue, however. He takes it in stride, but when their Warden companion begins to comment he can feel annoyance begin to rise in him. He does his best to forgive Lavellan's laughter at the situation but he cannot help a pang of disappointment.

"You are not required to learn this. I can finish if you prefer," he offers. He had hoped this might be something else they could share, that she might also understand the peace it gives him to prepare tea this way. He has to remind himself that this is something completely new for her, something that has always been so simple for her now made significantly more complicated.

"No, I'm going to learn this, and I'm going to get it right. I did not write all these notes and chop all these herbs just to give it up now," she says stubbornly.

Solas looks at her and nods as he returns to work trying not to smile at the expression of determination he has come to admire.

Several minutes later the tea is ready to be steeped. He explains exactly how hot the water should be and how long to steep everything, as he demonstrates.

He can't help the feeling of anticipation that rises in him as he begins to smell the old familiar aroma. With it comes a flood of memory, thoughts of better times, and worse, a whole world that no longer exists in living memory outside of those like himself.

He hands her her cup of tea, ready to share a piece of that world with someone of this one. He sees her raise the cup to take in the aroma herself, but he doesn't wait any longer before taking the first sip, letting the familiar sensation overtake him for a moment. He is surprised how satisfying it is to taste this again, as if the best parts of that old world were real again for a moment.

He opens his eyes to watch as Lyara swallows her first sip, his attention now focused on her reaction. He senses a warm pleasure from her, but it's soon followed by something that suggests disappointment, even as she takes another drink.

"So, how is it?" Bryn asks before he can say anything.

She looks over at him, meeting his eyes with a small smile, "It's very good," she says, but he can feel the essence of guilt behind the words.

Clearly she must see his skepticism to her reaction, "It is," she says again, a little more emphatically, "I really like it. I just... I don't think I'd drink it every day. I still like regular tea which is a lot easier to make."

The apology in her eyes is much stronger now and he tries to restrain his disappointment as he resignedly turns back to his own tea while she faces the others, letting them also sample this piece of history they cannot hope to appreciate.

He does his best to console himself that there is no way for her to know the significance of the tea. All she can see is that it is just tea that requires greater time and effort to make. She has no idea of the memories attached to it, they are not her memories, and she cannot conceive of the history behind it, how could she?

He remains lost in these thoughts, continuing to drink his own tea and otherwise ignoring the others until a sudden flare of emotion brings him back to awareness.

"Sera, that was my tea! It took me ages to make that!!" he hears Lyara cry.

It only takes him a moment to deduce what must have happened but it is Lyara's reaction that strikes him. Once the shock of what Sera did wears off he feels a deep disappointment rolling off of her, something similar to grief. _Just for a cup of tea?_ Seconds pass, but the feeling does not diminish.

Without another thought he goes to retrieve the extra set of herbs he'd set aside to make another cup for himself later, and quickly prepares a new one.

He comes back to find her cleaning up the work area, and though the feeling has dulled somewhat he can still feel a kind of sadness in her and something in himself seems to both tighten and release all at the same time as he approaches her.

He moves to stand next to her, "Here, there were enough herbs left, I was able to make another cup for you if you'd like it."

As she turns to look at him and takes notice of the steaming cup he's holding out to her, her whole demeanor shifts to something so much warmer than it had just been, her aura seems to reach out along with her hands as she moves them forward to take the cup, but instead of simply removing it from his hand she places her hands over both the cup and his hand as he holds it out to her, running her fingers over his skin lightly as she looks at the offering with a smile and a slight shake of her head before looking up to meet his eyes.

"Thank you," she says softly and carefully takes possession of the tea, finally pulling away, to bring the cup to her lips, breathing in the steam.

"You are quite welcome," he says before moving to continue the work of cleaning up that she had started, watching with wonder as she relishes this new cup, warmth and happiness now radiating from her.

He is not sure what brought on this dramatic change but it is clearly genuine and though the remainder his own tea has now gone cold, he finds this development somehow much more satisfying.

***

The camp is much livelier than usual that night. A number of Inquisition agents have arrived to begin dealing with the massive dragon. The majority of the group is gathered around the large central fire, so of course he has positioned himself as far as possible within the camp.

It is unsurprising when he notes Lavellan's departure from the camp a while after dinner. The noise of the camp makes him more than a little sympathetic to her desire to distance herself from it.

A figure suddenly sitting next to him breaks him from his thoughts and he looks up to see Bryn beside him, eyes on the smaller fire in their part of the camp.

"Well, are you going to go or not?" the woman says once she sees she has his attention.

"Excuse me?" he asks.

"The Herald has gone to take a walk," is all the reply he gets.

"Yes, I am aware of this. I did see her depart a short time ago," he says wondering what her point could be.

"Good, so why haven't you left yet?" she asks, still not looking at him.

"And just why would I do so? I do not believe she is in any great danger and she is clearly most concerned with being away from the commotion of the camp," he states.

"Exactly. I'm fairly certain you would prefer to be away from this level of activity too, but that doesn't mean that you wouldn't welcome some company," she finally turns to look at him then, looking him directly in the eye, "I really think you should go," she says with a note of finality, "but it's up to you," she shrugs as she stands up before walking back to the main fire leaving him there on his own to contemplate her words.

Part of him thinks it would be better to leave well enough alone, things have already gone too far as it is. But as the shouts and laughter seem only to get louder, the dark beyond the camp and the idea of Lyara's balming presence proves too much a temptation to resist.

He puts away the book he'd previously been staring at and heads out of the circle of light and noise, following the call of the only presence he wishes to be near.

 

He finds her several minutes later, well beyond the light and noise of the camp, beyond the dragon and the memory of the previous day's battle.

He finds her bathed in moonlight and radiating that peace he still marvels at even as it sooths his own internal turbulence.

Almost without thought he allows himself to be pulled in towards her, stopping only a hairsbreadth away, following the path of her gaze to look out upon the expanse of stars with her.

"Are you well?" he asks, and holds his breath as she shifts her weight from the tree to lean against him instead without shifting her eyes away from the heavens before her.

"I'm fine. It's a nice night," she replies, laying her head on his shoulder.

He forces himself to breathe, as he takes in the feel of her against him, soft and warm in both body and aura. In spite of himself he places his arm around her, placing his hand on her waist, relishing the feeling as she settles more firmly against him and puts her arm around him in return.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be here, but it's so hard to believe that when everything about the moment feels so peaceful that he almost feels like everything outside of it is no longer real. For this moment at least, he can believe nothing else matters. Just for this moment.

"Thank you for teaching me to make that tea today," she says after a few minutes, breaking the silence, soft voice clear in the quiet of the night around them. "I really did appreciate it and it was really good," she continues, a smile apparent in her voice, "... _But_ you do have to admit, it does take a lot of time and effort to make."

"I am glad that you enjoyed it, though I suppose you are right about the comparative amount of effort it takes," he tells her with mild amusement, but as he thinks back on the recipe and so many memories that go with it, sadness creeps in. "It is an ancient recipe, I discovered it in the Fade a long time ago and I believe it originates from the time of Elvhenan," he tells her, though it is more difficult than usual for him to force out the familiar lie. "For immortals, I am sure such preparations seemed to take no time at all. Every moment could be held and savored indefinitely, recipes developed and perfected over decades if need be, down to the smallest details. I suppose such things are not appropriate for a world that must move at such a fast pace."

He is lost in his memories now, things now gone forever, many of them so small, like the tea, and yet each one would be a priceless treasure if he could somehow reclaim them.

His attention returns to Lyara as he feels her shift, turning to face him, both her arms wrapping around him now.

He meets her eyes as she looks up at him and it's almost as if she is looking right into him. It feels like she understands, though he knows it is impossible. Even so, to think that she does, even a little, makes him want to only be closer to her, so he puts his arms around her as well, pulling her in, letting her weight settle against him, closing his eyes as she leans her head against him, tucking it into his chest.

"We may not have all the time in the world," she says, tightening her embrace, "but that doesn't mean that we can't sometimes slow down for a moment and appreciate doing something with care, there is beauty in the creation of such things and sometimes it is worth slowing down to enjoy them." She pulls back then, far enough that he can meet her eyes once more, "Thank you for the tea," she says, voice soft, but each word rings inside him.

He stifles a gasp as he feels her fingers trace along his skin bringing his heart into his throat. _How does she have such an effect on me?_ He wonders, bringing his own hand up to her face, to mimic the touch on his.

"You are welcome."

Their eyes are locked like that for several seconds and then he is not sure if it is real or not but she seems to get closer and closer until he feels the soft press of her lips to his.

In one unreal moment it feels like he has just taken a breath after holding it for an eternity before the sensation is gone and he is looking into those shining eyes, so bright in the moonlight. _Is this real? Is she?_ He doesn't know, but it hardly matters next to the longing to take another breath of her, and another and another until his lungs might burst.

He pulls her too him, one arm holding her tightly across her back as his other hand weaves itself into her hair, bringing their mouths together again.

He loses himself in that moment, free of all thought, only knowing the feeling of her body against his, their auras burning in tandem as their breaths become one. A gasping cry and he only knows he needs to taste her, begging entrance with his tongue and knowing almost instant relief as she opens to him and greets him eagerly with her tongue ready to meet his, her body shuddering against him.

That sudden movement against him brings back some awareness and he pulls back to look at the woman before him, but the vision of her flushed skin and the slightly open lips, still damp and swollen, entices him in once more, and he lets her hold him there just a little longer, before reality does come back and he must pull away in earnest, turning his head away from her all too tempting visage.

She seems to be fighting a similar battle as she presses herself against him for a moment in that final kiss, but then returns to their previous position, one that doesn't allow for eye contact, as if she too realizes the danger, which she likely does.

His heart is still beating fast, and he cannot escape the sensation of their auras' shared state, heated tension almost buzzing in the air between them.

He squeezes his eyes shut but almost thinks it won't be enough as her desires continue to pull at his own, but seconds pass and still they just hold each other. The minutes blur together, but bit by bit the tension begins to fade. He tries to find words, but there seems to be nothing to say, so he simply remains there, feeling his breath, his heartbeat, until the almost desperate grip they have on each other relaxes somewhat, and his mind begins to clear a little.

The will have to return to the camp soon, things will have to go back to the way they were. There is still so much to do, and neither of them can afford this distraction. Tempting as it is, he _knows_ the cost is too high, knows there are too many other responsibilities that _must_ take priority. If only they didn't feel so far away with Lyara in his arms.

Finally it is her voice that breaks the silence, "Perhaps, we should go back to camp."

The words are barely a breath across her lips but they echo loudly to his ears. He can tell it is not what she wants, or is that his own feeling? Whatever the case, it is true. The night is growing cooler and it is getting late, tomorrow they will return to the long road ahead and they will need rest. He knows all this, but it still takes some minutes before he is able to muster a reply, "Yes, that would likely be for the best."

Still they do not move. It is likely she is as aware as he is that once they separate they may never have this again. He tries to take in as much of the moment as he can, burning it into his memory, because it really should not happen again.

Somehow, they finally manage to pull apart, slowly releasing their hold on each other before stepping away. Their hands find each other and tighten for a moment before they wordlessly release even that bit of contact.

The space between them feels so much greater now and the sense of isolation stabs through him, but he maintains control, careful not to look towards the one who has somehow managed to create such a strong and unexpected reaction in him.

They head back to camp in silence. He barely acknowledges his surroundings, the light and sound of the camp are both jarring and irrelevant as they return to the fireside, parting company without comment and still not looking at each other.

He opens a book but cannot see the pages in front of him as his mind continues to turn in endless circles, though he is vaguely aware of Lyara talking to Bryn a short distance away. He keeps his eyes on the page as she crosses towards her tent but he feels her look at him, almost as if she called his name and he automatically looks up, silver meeting blue for a heartbeat or two before she turns and disappears.

He is not sure how they will face the next days together. Somehow they must find a way to return to the old routines and not let this event sway them from the course they have set before them.

He is only certain of one thing: that he is never going to forget this night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have kept everyone waiting for a lot longer than I'd planned, I'm really sorry for that. I ran into a bad bout of writer's block for a while and decided to just take a break. Once I got over that my mind has been occupied with a number of other things, and I haven't been able to maintain focus on this story the way I had been. I admit, I do have problems with concentration in general these days and when my brain wants to write a dozen different stories all at once, it's hard to reign it in to actually do even one of them justice.
> 
> Going forward I doubt I'll be able to keep the pace I had going last year though I'm going to try not to make you wait quite so long again. I might try to just do shorter chapters, or adjust the pacing a little to make it easier on myself because I really do want to complete this story and there's still a long way to go. I hope you'll be patient with me as I figure it all out. 
> 
> By the way, at the start of the year I commissioned the wonderful [@hansaera-art](http://hansaera-art.tumblr.com) to make some [beautiful art](http://mayonaka-no-tenshi.tumblr.com/post/156490978275/hey-guys-look-at-the-lovely-artwork-hansaera-art) for Chapter 41 of Reality Dreaming, which of course corresponds with this chapter. I hope you guys like it, I know I do!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Take care!


	20. To the Storm Coast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers events of Ch.42 through the start of Ch44 of Reality Dreaming

He does not find much rest that night and it takes him longer than usual to fall asleep. Once in the Fade he simply finds himself wandering, lost in thought. He’d briefly considered going to see Wisdom, but wasn’t sure he was ready to open up on the matter just yet, or what he would say if he did.

After the restless night, he wakes early and begins his preparation for their departure.

When Lyara finally emerges, it is immediately apparent she is keeping herself a little more closed than usual. He can’t help the twinge of disappointment, but since he is doing the same, he can’t really hold it against her. There still remain too many obligations for them to give much to whatever it is that now exists between them.

They quickly manage to return to almost normal interactions as they continue on their journey, none of the others seeming to notice much of a change, or at least they don’t acknowledge it if they do, and he’s fairly sure Varric would have said something had he noticed anything, being a man who often delights in teasing. Other than Varric, Bryn is the most observant of their group’s other members, but it is always hard to determine what she might know or see, especially as she does tend to keep her own counsel.

Still, there _is_ a difference between he and Lyara now, one he can feel, and likely one she is also aware of. The pull between them seems stronger than ever, but they both seem inclined to resist more than ever too. Fortunately, the road north does not challenge this resolve much. There is little opportunity for any privacy, even during their practice sessions. During the evenings, when she takes time for herself, away from the camp, he makes sure to leave her in peace. It is probably best for both of them to have that space. As long as he can still feel her presence at the edge of his senses, he finds it easy enough to bear the distance.

The Fade is unfortunately not quite so forgiving, the spirits of longing and yearning continuing to dog his wanderings there. He does not feel much better when they are absent either, wondering what would draw them away from his own considerable feelings, however much he might dislike admitting their presence around him.

Overall, the journey north passes without incident, an easy routine of travel with a few rifts and bandits thrown in along the way. He tries not to chide himself at every rift they encounter, instead doing his best to focus on the fact that they are making progress in undoing the results of his miscalculations.

One of the few things that stands out from the general monotony of their travels are the moments he catches Lavellan humming to herself. It is a quiet sound at first, and it is unlikely that any of the others, farther away and with less keen hearing, are able to detect it behind the ambient sounds of the surrounding landscape and their own passage through it.

Intrigued, he cannot help pulling up slightly closer, hoping to catch more of the melody. Throughout the morning he hears a few different tunes, some which seem to repeat as though they are songs pulled from memory, and others which seem to meander and change, variations on a theme as if they are being created in the moment. None of it is much like anything he’s heard before, either in this world or his own past, and he wonders where the music originates, what may have influenced the distinctive rhythms and melodies. He is fascinated by all of it and soon finds him self lost in the music she is creating for herself.

She does this off and on for several days as they continue north, until one afternoon when they have stopped at a river to water the horses and rest their legs. While she stands by her horse, stroking it gently, the sound of the water around them, she begins to sing. Her voice is still quiet, but likely bolstered by the sound of the flowing water that does help to mask some of the tune, but the changing tones are too distinct to be lost in the ambient noise completely, and therefore draw the attention of a few the others standing near enough, who simply listen for a while, without comment.

Solas knows it’s a mistake the moment Cassandra speaks to ask about the song. Despite the compliments, Lyara’s embarrassment comes through, clearly uncomfortable to be sharing something he quickly realizes as being of personal significance to her. He knows her to be a very creative person, though she does not show this side of herself overtly most of the time, and to be suddenly put on the spot for it is understandably uncomfortable for her. Even so, at the encouragement of the others he seems to detect a desire in her to share more with them, as well as a simultaneous fear of doing so.

He cannot help wonder at this fear. Perhaps she merely lacks confidence, but he doubts that is all of it, and he cannot deny that, like the others, he would relish the chance to see more of that side of her. Regardless of what he or the others want, however, it is her he is most concerned about.

She clearly has some desire to indulge in creative expression, so much that it had emerged in the quiet humming she may not have even been fully aware of the last few days. Yet, something seems to compel her to hold back and repress these impulses. It is certainly not the first time he has been concerned about how circumstances may be at odds with her basic nature, but in this, he thinks there need not be any true obstacles to her expressing this part of her.

He pulls his horse up even with hers later that afternoon after she had been completely silent for several hours after the incident, ”I suppose I should not be surprised to learn that you have some talent with music as well.”

He hadn’t made the effort to approach her this way for some time, allowing her her space after what had happened after they’d killed the dragon, though he too had been hesitant in allowing himself too close to her since then as well.

He’d also thought perhaps she would not welcome his company either, that perhaps he had crossed boundaries he shouldn’t have. Of course, this was true, the events of that night were not something he should have allowed for many reasons, but inside he can not help hoping that it was something she’d enjoyed, even wanted. Her aura at the time had indicated she did, but perhaps in hindsight her feelings had changed and he could not blame her if that was the case.

Now, however, she seems quite comfortable to have him there with her and he realizes suddenly how much he has missed this simple communication between them on the road, the time shared in simple conversation while on the road.

"It seems logical that someone who could so quickly befriend a spirit of Creativity would possess a number of related talents," he continues when it is clear she will not reject his presence there.

She looks at him with a small but warm smile, "I'm not sure about talent, but I have tried and enjoyed quite a few creative pursuits over the years. Music, dance, arts, crafts... I'm better at some things than others, though I don't think I've mastered any. Not much opportunity, especially these days. It's hard to prioritize something like that when there seems to be so many other necessities to worry about."

And with her words, some of her concerns become clear to him. He had been right in his guess that it was the nature of her circumstances that set themselves at odds with who she should be able to be.

"Such skills may not be a necessity towards completing our current goals, but I believe there are opportunities to incorporate them." He tries to keep his voice neutral, not wanting to seem as though his encouragement if for his own benefit, however much he would want to witness whatever form of creation she might engage in.

"Is this your way of saying that you want to hear me sing too?” she asks, calmly, but the suspicion the words express is evident behind the calm she tries to project.

He holds back the flinch that would acknowledge his guilt because he really would love to hear her sing again, especially if she could set her voice free without a need to keep it from others, but he is not here to express his own desires, he needs to help her realize that if expression is what _she_ desires, she ought to find a way to achieve it.

He takes a moment to compose his thoughts before speaking again, "I am sure that if I were to hear you sing I would find the experience very enjoyable. However, I am more concerned with what you would enjoy doing. Since becoming the Herald and joining the Inquisition, you have devoted yourself to the causes you represent. You have worked hard to gain abilities and knowledge that will help you in closing the Breach and aiding the people of Thedas. Your efforts are admirable but much of what is required to meet these aims isn't truly part of your nature, I believe. You seem to have a more creative spirit, but that part of you has had little chance to express itself. I have found that those with creative natures tend to suffer when that side of them is denied for too long."

He can feel her considering his words, testing their sincerity. He ignores the prick of pain at her doubt, remembering what she had told him of some of her treatment in the past. Instead, he does his best to let her feel the truth behind his words, opening his own emotions to her still subconscious awareness of them.

"I still have the Fade you know. Creativity and I are always being creative there," she finally replies, clearly a little defensive.

He takes the words in stride, ignoring the tone behind them, “Yet you also use your time there to learn, and devise strategies, seek wisdom, and recover strength. Is the creative expression you enjoy there enough? Only you can decide that, but if finding other ways to express your creative nature outside of dreams would bring you some happiness, then I think it is worth considering. You need not share anything with anyone but yourself, I simply think you should not discount the value of such pursuits despite your current circumstances."

He knows he has gotten through to her when she begins to admit her own worries on the matter, her fears of how the others might judge pursuits that might seem trivial and unnecessary when compared to her duties within the Inquisition. It isn’t really surprising, she’s expressed similar concerns before and it seems that some of that still remains, despite what they have already discussed.

He does his best to reassure her yet again, but the response that follows gives him pause.

“There are plenty of people out there that don't want me to be Herald,” she reminds him. “As an elf and a mage I'm starting at a disadvantage and I feel like I have to do just that much more to have any respect at all. Even without that, once a person reaches a position of some power, there will always be those looking for any reason to take it away. And when it comes to my creative pursuits, I have dealt with others who have been less than supportive in the past when far less was at stake."

As usual she demonstrates amazing awareness of her situation. It is certainly true what she says about being in power. The higher one climbs the more those below try to pull them back down. Still, she is not alone and it pains him that she still seems to struggle as if she is, as if she is waiting for everything and everyone around her to abandon her, and perhaps that is exactly what she is waiting for. She has expressed at times in the past, a great mistrust in those around her, perhaps, in spite of everything they have all gone through together, she still holds onto that fundamental fear.

He knows he can do nothing to erase this fear, only time and the proof offered by those around her can have any hope of that, but he can still offer his support, and encourage her to try, to take those steps that might allow her to see just how much she can trust those around her in such matters.

"I suppose your concerns are not wholly unwarranted," he finally tells her, "but I think few would object to you having a certain amount of free time for personal use; time which could find much less favorable use than some creative endeavor. If such an objection were to be raised, I suspect that your advisors would be more than up to the task of quieting them."

He almost stops there, but he feels like it is not enough. He wants to offer her more. He knows he is the last person she should be trusting, but he cannot help craving that trust anyway.

"I will support you in any creative venture you choose. And I will help you defend that choice should you need it,” he declares.

Though there is so much he can never promise her, this he feels sure he can offer, fully and freely. It is such a small thing, really, but he feels the impact the simple promise has had on her, turning his eyes to meet hers.

She held his gaze for what felt like minutes but was likely only seconds. He could still feel an uncertainty in her, but there was also something that told him she did believe him, and that, in this at least, she would give him that trust, a feeling that only intensified with the words of thanks that finally followed.

He doubts he will ever even need to prove himself in this kind of promise, but he knows that he will do so if called on, and more importantly, she knows it too.

 

* * *

 

The journey North becomes increasingly trying on everyone once the weather shifts. The efforts to stay dry don’t do much for increasing the camaraderie. This is not the sort of group that grows closer by proximity.

Not only is everyone more than a little uncomfortable to be forced into such a tight space in the evenings, but there is an increasing restlessness among them, due to the weather’s preventing any of them from pursuing their usual evening activities.

They save their energy to travel as quickly as possible and it is with some relief that they reach the Inquisition camp near the Storm Coast. They rain may be as hard as ever, but a series of larger, more established tents seem to offer at least a few more distractions than they’ve been able to enjoy for the last few days.

For him, the arrival is hardly significant. He has little interest in joining the others in the common spaces provided. Despite providing a space out of the continuous rain, the communal tents are noisy and more crowded than he would like. The convergence of damp bodies in humid air mixed with fire smoke does not make for an ideal environment, in his opinion.

Fortunately the first night passes quickly. He spends most of the evening reading, taking notes, and filling in a page or two with drawings from the day’s memories of watching Lyara as she met with Scout Harding and some of the other Inquisition agents, getting updated about the situation in the area.

It is yet another fascinating aspect of the woman, to see her in this role as leader, interacting with those under her that she does not know well, or at all. He’s seen her as friend and companion among their group, seen her as a student, a warrior, and a diplomat. Each version of the woman is fascinating to him in different ways. With all the time they have spent together since her awakening after the Conclave, and how well he has had the privilege of getting to know her, to see how that person he has come to know so well adapts herself to each role so well, despite her own misgivings, cannot be anything but fascinating to him.

The next morning they set out for the actual coast in search of the mercenary group that had invited the Herald to offer their services to the Inquisition.

Most of Lyara’s emotions seem to be blocked from him but he isn’t really surprised. He knows she’s been increasingly uncomfortable and irritated by the weather and having to deal with being constantly wet, but she’s been doing her best to conceal most of her displeasure from everyone, including him. It follows that she would naturally conceal her other feelings in the process.

The others are also trying but he suspects the conditions will begin to wear on all of them before long. Water repellant spells help, but even they can only do so much.

They arrive at the beach in time to catch the end of a fairly intense fight. Lavellan wisely keeps them out of the fighting since they have no way of knowing who they are fighting or which side is which. It is also quickly apparent that one side is about to win and their assistance is unlikely to be needed.

Assuming the winners are the very same mercenaries they have come to find, they are clearly going to be an asset if they join the Inquisition. Walking into the camp that has been set up near the beach, he can clearly see that the group has suffered few injuries and possibly no losses in the skirmish, while the other side seems to have been taken out completely. This is confirmed a short time later when they are led up to the imposing figure of a large horned Qunari.

He watches Lyara walk a short distance away with the large leader of the group, though they stay close enough that the rest of the party will be able to hear everything. It is a wise move that has signaled her authority without dismissing the importance of the other members of the party, allowing them the possibility of contributing should it seem appropriate.

She is quick to gain a rapport with the large mercenary leader. He is actually somewhat impressed, he’d thought she might have been more intimidated by the massive warrior, but this is not the first time he’s underestimated her.

What is more surprising is how quickly she accepts the information that their prospective ally is in fact a spy for the Qun, and he can tell this information unsettles a few of their other companions. No one speaks, however, even as she readily accepts the man and his band of mercenaries into the Inquisition’s employ. Everyone keeps their peace until they are well on their way back to the main camp. It is clear both Bryn and Cassandra have strong opinions on the subject, but Lyara seems strangely content to let them argue without giving them much attention at all, instead preferring to hear more of Varric’s thoughts and stories about the Qunari.

Solas is unsure himself where he stands on the matter. His first impulse is to, at the very least, be extremely wary of a self-admitted member of the Ben-Hasrath, and certainly not to invite him into their party. However, he has had similar sentiments about nearly all the later additions to their party, all of whom have already proven their value. Even Sera, who is clearly a superior archer, and dedicated in her support of the Herald, despite some differences of opinion. He may not particularly like the woman, but he cannot deny her value or claim she was ultimately an unworthy choice.

He has grown to trust Lyara’s judgement, even as she had made many choices he would not have deemed advisable, but which proved to have been beneficial.

When they reach the camp he returns to his own tent for a time, hoping to read, but finds his concentration frequently wandering away from the page in front of him.

Once he receives word that they will not be heading out anywhere else that day, he decides to venture out of the camp, hoping to find some place where he can better clear his head.

 

He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting been sitting on the overlook, lost in his own thoughts without truly taking in the view, when his attention is pulled back to the world around him by the approach of a familiar presence.

He almost thinks she has come looking for him, but for the small flare of surprise he catches off her and the subsequent indecision. He can feel his lips twitch upwards as he realizes she likely had the same idea he did when coming up here.

He keeps his peace, not even turning to acknowledge her presence, allowing her to decide what she wants to do. He thinks he should share her uncertainty, but he cannot deny to himself that her company would be welcome.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when she comes to her decision and walks towards him, greeting him casually.

"I suppose I should have expected you too would tire of the rather cramped quarters in the camp," he says as she settles in next to him, the feeling of her presence beside him warming him in spite of the damp breeze.

"Yeah, that many people in such a small space is just too much," she agrees, lightly.

"And yet you added another to our number just this morning," he comments, unable to restrain his curiosity regarding her motives, now that she is here and they are alone.

"I did," she replies simply.

"Would you mind explaining your reasoning behind the decision? Especially why you thought it would be a good idea to allow a Qunari spy to travel alongside the Herald of the Inquisition?" he requests when she doesn’t volunteer any further comment.

The answer that follows only demonstrates yet again how what she does is not without careful reasoning. She smoothly explains both why she is allowing the group to grow so large and why she is not very concerned about the their newest members position with the Qun. But what she says next, is what really hits him.

“I don't really see it as different from most of those in our group. It's not like any of us are normal, how many of us would be viewed as trustworthy outside current circumstances? How many wanted to see me executed just a few months ago? I'm not a naturally trusting person, but I still believe in offering the chance for people to prove themselves. I think The Iron Bull has something to offer, so I'm going to let him have the chance to show us."

Her point is more than clear. Every single one of them has been judged as untrustworthy and dangerous in recent days. Their backgrounds are mixed and frequently mysterious. His own past, would certainly not do him much credit, were it known. It is because Lyara has been so willing to look beyond the unknown past of those offering help, and give people a chance to prove themselves now that any of them are here now.

It is still a risky choice, but none of them might be here if it were not for those willing to take a chance on someone, "I hope you are right,"

"I hope so too. There is never any way to be completely sure of the outcome of any decision, so all we can do is make the best decision we are able to in that moment."

His misgivings melt in her acknowledgement of the inherent risks. She is no fool, that she has proven again and again. He cannot deny how right she is, he knows it too well himself. How many of his decisions have ended in ways he never considered? It doesn’t make him any less responsible. He really should have been more careful. All he can hope to do now is find a way to repair such mistakes.

Despite his own heavy thoughts, he is still well aware of the presence beside him as she shifts her hand beneath their cloaks, allowing it to sit carefully between them the silent question it poses, clear.

He hardly thinks about this decision as he reaches his hand towards hers where they can meet. It has been so long since he has had the chance to touch her. He knows he shouldn’t but his own selfishness will not be restrained in this. It is only a simple touch after all, only hands. It hardly matters that his mind is wishing it were more. And it is hardly anything if he indulges running his fingers along the skin beneath them, slipping around to take hold of the smaller hand so that it fits perfectly in his as he continues working soft patterns into the back of her hand with his thumb.

He shifts his eyes slightly to look in her direction to see her half lidded eyes, looking out unseeingly over the landscape before her, her focus, like his, entirely on the point of contact between them.

She begins to shift her own grip a moment later, turning her palm in his to better align their fingers until she can slip them between his, solidifying their mutual hold on each other. He squeezes into that grip, returning it as he feels the beat in his heart intensify, not so much in it’s pace, but as if it now needed to pump twice as much blood with each beat, causing and what feels like could be an almost audible boom.

He tries to take slow steady breaths to regain the calm of a few minutes earlier but his success is limited. Even so, he can hardly bring himself to mind as he continues to run his thumb along hers, focusing on that point of contact so as not to do anything more, no matter how much this touch and her proximity makes him long for more.

And so they remain this way as the minutes passed, all but unaware of the rain that continues to fall.

 

* * *

 

The next day sees the start of their true mission on the coast.

Their newest companion joins them as they prepare to set out and before long they are climbing over the rough terrain to discover one of the bandit’s outposts and what remains of the missing agents. It is soon clear they will have to take on the leader of this group if they are to secure the area, or rather, Lavellan will.

When Bryn points out that the Herald will have to take on the actual challenge due to her position. Solas cannot argue this point, he knows Bryn is right, and he knows Lavellan is ready. Her skills have increased well beyond what they were only a few months ago, and the unique mix of abilities will make it much easier for her opponents to be caught off guard. Even so, he cannot help the uneasiness he feels at the situation, at the knowledge that this is not something she should have ever had to face and it is his fault that she must, that she has had to become so proficient at killing as to be able to take on such a challenge. He is simultaneously proud of her accomplishments, admiring the strength with which she has faced everything, and bothered that it ever became necessary for her to ever achieve any of this.

He cannot help brooding throughout the evening as they prepare the camp with extra wards in the hostile environment, and through the next morning as they seek out the camp of these so called Hessarian, watching Lavellan don the crest they’d found at the outpost and then lead them straight into the camp, ignoring the lack of confidence the guards seemed to have in her ability to succeed in her challenge. He can’t help a small upturn of his lips at their underestimation of her, this is exactly why she will succeed, he knows.

Bryn moves to her side to discuss last minute tactics but they seem set on the plan made earlier. He’s already carrying her staff to disguise the fact that she is a mage so she can have the element of surprise added to the already advantage of being a mage. He can see the Hessarian’s leader ahead, an imposing figure, and the mabari nearby, clearly alert and waiting. He is not surprised to realize it won’t be a completely fair fight, but the man is a fool if he thinks they are about to let him have such an advantage.

Even as she steps forward to confront the leader of this group he has his magic at the ready so that he can raise the barrier around her the moment the man makes his move.

The exchange between them is short and he the barrier goes up around her the moment he knows a fight cannot be avoided. A moment later his attention is forced away from the confrontation between the two leaders as he’s forced to support the others in keeping the now attacking mabari from getting close to Lavellan.

The fight on both fronts is short but intense. The Ferelden dogs requiring their full efforts until they are taken down, and as he finally turns back to the true fight happening he is able to see the final blows fall, cementing Lavellan as the victor.

He watches as she stands over the now fallen leader of the Hessarian, sees her look up to take in everything around them before moving off a bit to clean her blades, seemingly nonchalant to recent events, but he and the others adjust their positions to defend, should any of the other members of this group of bandits seek revenge over the death of their leader.

No one has moved by the time Lavellan rejoins them and the atmosphere is strangely quiet until one of the members steps forward, offering their service to the Herald.

It is admittedly not what he’d expected but he is not disappointed by the turn of events. It seems they have gained new allies in the area that could prove to be a valuable asset.

The rest of the day is spent conferring with the Hessarian to work out some agreement on how their relationship with the Inquisition should be managed.

Once concluded, they build camp within the compound walls. Despite the alliance, the members of their own party are still predictably mistrustful of a group that had previously seemed intent on killing any representatives of the Inquisition. They therefore make sure to take plenty of precautions, even within the relatively protected perimeter of the compound, setting up wards and arranging to have a two person watch at all times.

Once the camp is secure they make plans for the next day, when they will set about completing their secondary objective on the Coast. Even as they discuss what they already know of the situation, he can feel a strange kind of frustration from Lavellan. If he didn’t know better, he would think that she did not believe their efforts would be of value, but he guesses there must be something else on her mind. All their information points to Wardens having been in the area, and it remains their best lead, therefore making it worth investigating.

Soon all eyes are turned towards her, however, and she sets forth her plan, cementing his belief that she is taking their mission her seriously for her to have clearly thought the plan out this well. He has to admit it is the most logical and efficient course of action. Dividing into two groups is certain to speed up their search and as he and Lavellan are the only mages among them, it makes sense that they too must be divided.

He knows he would have to make the same decision, were he in her position, but like her, he is not pleased with that fact.

Despite his own selfish desire to remain near Lavellan, he has no criticism to offer on her decision, nor her choices for who will make up the rest of each group. She has managed to make them well balanced in both ability and personality, and he cannot imagine a better combination.

They plan out the routes for each group before finally deciding to call it a night.

As usual, Lavellan takes the first watch and he quickly volunteers to share it. They are both aware of what her decision to split them up will mean and though a part of him argues that it will be a good opportunity to gain some of that distance he’d been trying get for so long, a much louder part is already anticipating how much he will miss her presence.

After making a quick round of the camp to check the wards, he returns to the fire and sits beside her in front of it it, foregoing any effort to maintain the distance they generally try to keep between them while in camp.

They remain in a calm quiet until her voice breaks the silence with a kind of determined urgency, "Hey, when we get done with this, you're teaching me healing magic.”

She quickly begins to argue her case, presenting very valid points as to why he should begin teaching her, but even if she had said nothing more, he would have agreed. Truth be told, he probably has delayed such lessons longer than is truly reasonable and he can no longer understand why he had done so, her talent and ability are clearly more than enough and the skills will certainly be as necessary as she is arguing.

More than that though, the passion and determination in her voice is fierce, full of that deep fire that he has always admired in her and he cannot help but hear her out, letting all her words flow over him, though she doesn’t need them for the purpose she intends: convincing him of her case. A part of him feels as though she might be able to ask anything of him this way and he just might be willing to give it. It is a frightening and dangerous revelation, and one he may have to be careful of in the future. But this… this request is something he can give easily, it’s something he should give. In this at least he can easily grant her wish.

It takes him a moment to realize her words have stopped though the request remains palpable in the aura around her.

“Ma nuvenin,” he answers quietly, knowing in that moment there is so much more he wishes he could grant to her.

He should be more bothered by this feeling, he knows this, but perhaps it is knowing they will part soon, or perhaps it is just the peace of the night and his fatigue from the day, but instead he feels rather settled in the idea. Tomorrow he may feel differently but for this evening, before they truly part for the first time since their meeting, he will concede to let his feelings simply be as they are.

"...thank you," he hears her say softly beside him, before hesitating slightly to continue, "...And...uh...do you think you could start teaching me Elvhen then too?"

He can sense the shyness to her words, but the clear desire nested within them and this request strikes him more powerfully than the first one as he begins to imagine what it might be like to actually speak with her in the language of his people, in the language only she of those he has encountered in this world will truly have the ability to use to its full potential.

He cannot help the smile that rises at the prospect, "Of course.”

Her eyes are locked onto his for a few seconds before she quickly turns away, a warm nervous energy sparking up around her.

"Good, I look forward to it,” she replies, eyes firmly fixed on the fire ahead now.

He can feel the tension rise and fall in her, an anxious restlessness filling the air and all he wants is to ease it. He wants to share and hold on to these last couple of hours together and enjoy them as best they can, so he reaches out and places his hand on hers, holding firm through the initial increase in tension but then he feels as she slowly starts to relax.

He relaxes along with her, the increasing calm in her aura, helping him to find peace as well as their fingers eventually shift to weave themselves together just before she shifts to lean over and against him, finally resting her head on his shoulder. It is a simple gesture, but the solid weight against him and the fingers now intertwined with his own are so real to him in this moment, as if they are the only thing that matters.

"I'll miss you," she tells him, voice soft but clear in the cool damp night.

He tightens his hand in hers, “I shall miss you as well," he replies.

He knows it is the truth too. No matter his intentions to distance himself, he knows inside that her absence will be noticed, he will miss her. So he remains this way with her through the rest of their watch, taking what he can from her mere existence beside him to carry with him once they are parted, resolving to carry out their mission with the greatest efficiency possible so that the time apart might be short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings to all my wonderful readers! I've been trying to get this chapter out for some time and finally got it done. I'm not completely satisfied with this one but staring at it isn't going to make it better at this point. 
> 
> I hope you are all well! I wish you the very best!! As always, thank you for reading!!


	21. Reunions and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to chapters 44-46 of Reality Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter I've done so far, but I really wanted to get all the way up through the end of Chapter 46. Hope you enjoy!!

The next day dawned and the morning proceeded in the usual fashion other than a somewhat more communal breakfast with their hosts. However, not long after they’d left the Hessarian compound behind, the two groups that had been decided on the night before split to head on their different courses.

As the party he is with moves farther down the hills towards the sea, she moves steadily up towards the mountains. He hardly pays attention to the path forward as he focuses on the receding presence he knows will all too soon be beyond his reach.

It grows weaker and weaker until, within only a few minutes, the distance between them has grown so much that she is already well beyond even his most focused senses.

With reluctance he turns his attention ahead to their path, knowing that the only way to speed the closing of this distance is to achieve their objectives as efficiently as possible. At the same time he chides himself, reminding himself that it is likely for the best that they have this time apart, that they already spend too much time together and that it is dangerous to encourage this attachment between them.

It is an old and familiar argument but even as he repeats it to himself, he can tell he is simply going through the motions of it. In truth, he does not like this separation, he does not like that he cannot be nearby should problems arise. As she had so clearly reminded him the night before, she doesn’t even have the most basic healing capabilities, causing him to now curse his own caution.

He reminds himself how far Lyara has come since that day on the mountain, that she is more than capable now, and that she is not alone.

Despite his own reassurances to himself, there is one thing for which no reassurances exist: he simply does not like being apart from her.

Not only has he gotten used to her being always within reach, and being able to sense her presence so close to him even when he cannot see her, but it has become a comfort to him, something he actively enjoys, and now even longs for. He feels a palpable emptiness now, where she had been only hours ago. It would be bearable if he knew it was only for a short time, or if he could be certain she were safe, but he knows neither of those are the case this time. She will face the same dangers he will, and he will not be able to see her again for days, and it makes the emptiness all the more keenly felt.

 

 

The first day manages to pass easily enough. They skirt around a couple of rifts and mark the locations so they can be closed when they return with Lavellan. The beach itself is fairly peaceful and easy to traverse, they only have difficulty when they head inland a ways, to search some of the hills along the coast. The hills are steep and when they cannot find a path they are forced to resort to climbing until they finally stop when the sun gets too low to safely traverse the treacherously wet landscape.

The days pass in a kind of blur of rain and mud. Since they are forced to avoid any rifts, there are few enough enemies, most of which are found inside various caves, though they are surprised by a sudden encounter with a giant. At least The Iron Bull manages to prove his worth, clearly having had experience with giants and helping to direct them all to execute a fairly efficient take-down of their oversized opponent.

The search for any sign of the Wardens brings few results. They find a couple fishermen, that seem intent on leaving the area soon, who had seen some Wardens a while back, but nothing recently. The mentions of possible darkspawn activity are disturbing, but ultimately unhelpful in getting them any closer to discovering anything useful about the missing Wardens.

Otherwise, Solas remains firmly lodged within his own head, keeping silent unless it is necessary for him to speak. Varric teases him about it, and he catches some long glances from Bryn, but he pays these things little heed as they press on through the rain.

Nights are the hardest. In the quiet, without the distractions of travel he only becomes more aware of the missing presence he can’t seem to forget about. The fixation of his conscious mind inevitably manifests itself in dreams once he is finally able to find sleep, the feelings he would so often push aside becoming almost tangible in the Fade.

It takes significantly more effort not to seek Lyara out in the Fade than it usually does. A part of him thinks she must be missing him too, as she’d said she would, and might welcome a visit here where their physical distance would not matter nearly as much, but he remembers his promise to himself after the last time he had sought her out in dreams and resolves himself not to go where he has not been explicitly invited. A part of him hopes she will call though, will reach out to him through the Fade,

Still, every night, he cannot help wondering where in the Fade she might be and imagining if he were to seek her out. It is dangerous and self-indulgent, but such things are always harder to control in the Fade.

He cannot deny the relief he feels once they finally reach the rendezvous point. Unfortunately, the feeling is short-lived as it means that now they can only wait until the others arrive.

He’d thought the days of travel during their separation were bad, but waiting quickly becomes a much greater trial. The first day isn’t too bad it is slow but he allows himself to remain patient. The second day is harder, he becomes restless as the hours wear on painfully slow. It has been a long time since he has beens o aware of the passage of time and yet he cannot seem to keep his mind of it as the hours continue to pass.

He does his best to stay busy, gathering yet more herbs he doesn’t really need for their supplies. He thinks about looking for the ingredients for tea, but knows he won’t be able to find most of what he needs in this area.

He takes the first watch that night and spends the quiet hours alone filling more pages of his sketch book. He couldn’t bring most of his usual reading material so there is little else for him to focus his mind on in the evening.

All the while, his senses are focused outward, searching, waiting for the familiar presence to cross into the boundaries of his perception. He knows this is useless at night, when they are surely camped out somewhere for, but it doesn’t seem to be something within his conscious control.

It isn’t until late in the following afternoon that he finally begins to sense something right on the edge of his awareness. He ceases his efforts to read, eyes closing so he can focus, waiting, wanting to be sure.

The others don’t seem to notice anything different, but from their view it likely only looks as if he is in deep thought. He waits like this for several minutes until there can be no doubt, though to be honest, he’d had no doubt within the first thirty seconds. As he feels her approach, he is both resisting the urge he has to head out of camp to meet her on the way, and just enjoying the return of that presence to his senses as it fills in the emptiness that has tormented him since their parting.

Finally though he opens his eyes, closes his book and looks to the others, still sitting around the fire. “I believe we can expect company soon,” he announces calmly.

“The others are near?” Bryn asks.

He simply nods.

“How do you know that?” Varric asks.

“I can sense the mark the Herald bears,” he half lies.

Bryn is the only one who is aware that he has the ability to sense more than just magic when it comes to Lavellan, and it is not something he is eager to have become common knowledge. While their party members might learn to accept it, if the information were to get out, there’s no telling what others might think or do with the knowledge and it is not worth the risk. They already have to be very careful, even among their party, when discussing anything to do with the Fade or Spirits. The idea of them being able to sense each other’s emotions, a skill not even suggested in most lore, would be sure to make any number of people suspicious.

Several minutes later they can hear as the other party approaches the camp, their tired forms coming into view a minute later. He stands up the moment they pass through the wards, his eyes locking on the figure of Lyara as she leads them to the camp.

The moment their eyes meet, he can feel the torrent of emotions flowing from her, the pull of her presence all the stronger after their separation, and he forces himself not to move at all, to prevent himself from answering to that pull, it is not the time nor the place. Though, seeing her smile from across the fire, puts his control to the test.

Fortunately, Varric speaks up then, creating enough of a distraction that both of them are able to continue in an apparently natural manner.

There’s a quick exchange of updates from both sides, explaining highlights from the past few days. Once informed of Cassandra’s injury, he busies himself with taking care of it, but still keeps a part of his awareness focused on Lyara where she sits a short distance away.

The time that follows continues with more detailed exchanges of information as new tents are added to the camp circle and shelters fashioned against the still falling rain which seems to at least be letting up somewhat for the evening.

He listens to the news the others bring but remains completely aware of Lyara’s every move. He can feel the tension in her, similar to his own. He sees her stretching, getting up to move, as if to loosen her limbs a bit, but he can feel the restlessness in her, their eyes meeting for brief glances as they fight the impulse to focus all attention on each other.

He can’t help noticing again just how much stronger the pull between them feels after so much time apart. It has only been a few days, but it somehow feels so much longer. He had not expected this. He knew there would be some inevitable relief at seeing her again, but this deeper longing to be close to her, to reach out and pull her to him, to drink in her very breath, has never been so intense before.

The minutes seem to drag on as they eat and the others chatter around them. Fortunately their relative silence goes unnoticed since it is not unusual for them to be the ones who speak least.

Partway through the evening he sees her stand again, but rather than stretching, she pulls up her hood and heads straight out of the camp, emotions held into herself more carefully than they had been since their reunion.

He feels her go past the wards and farther from the camp, out into the darkness beyond the reach of their fire’s light or the camp’s noise, but still within easy reach of his senses.

Logically, he knows he should simply stay where he is, allow her to be and let her come back on her own. At the same time, he knows there is no way he is going to do that.

He stands a minute later and follows the direction she had gone, not even looking at any of the others as he departs.

It doesn’t take him long to find her, standing in the dark, looking out, unseeing, into the shadows, clearly waiting to see if he would indeed follow.

He steps up close behind her, enough space that they do not touch, but only just. He holds himself back, waiting for her to show him she wants him there, though there isn’t really any doubt.

“I missed you,” he hears whispered into the darkness.

He closes his eyes and takes a slow breath, still trying to hold himself in check.

He feels a small pulse of magic as she produces a small magelight, turning towards him and meeting his eyes, hers almost seeming to glow as they reflect the small light in the otherwise black landscape.

The sight takes the last of his control from him and he is reaching for her without another thought, pulling her in just as he’s been imagining the whole night. She responds without hesitation, drawn in by her own matching desire, rising to meet him, surely able to taste the longing on his tongue, the sweet taste of her more satisfying than any dessert.

She pulls him closer with her own arms, sighing into the kiss as he deepens it further, feeling her body go soft against his, surrendering herself to him. It is such an intoxicating, alluring sensation and in a brief moment of clearheadedness, he pulls back, letting that logical side hold him back yet again.

She resists, but let’s him pull away. He can see the breathless flush to her skin, her swollen lips, and it is all he can do to get his next words out, “We shouldn’t. Not here with the others so close.”

He knows he should care, but in reality the words are empty, he doesn’t really care, not at this moment anyway.

It almost hurts to hold back as she looks up at him, eyes wide in the dim light.

"You're right, we probably shouldn't... but at the moment I'm finding it difficult to really care,” she answers, reflecting his own sentiments in her words before lifting her hand to his face.

He does his best to hold back a shiver at the delicate contact but he is only partially successful, and he can’t help but lean into that touch.

"The others won't bother us for a while yet, and honestly, I don't think most of them would be surprised, I'm sure Varric wouldn’t,” she says, fingers lightly stroking along cheek and jaw.

The comment is not what he really wants to hear just then, especially for how true it likely is, but when he sees her smiling up at him again, the shimmer of amusement in her aura quickly shifting back to the longing that had far from relinquished it’s hold on them, he forgets everything else.

"I missed you," she says again, "and it seems like you missed me too. Let's just enjoy this moment."

Her words feel almost like pleading, though he’s not sure if it’s her asking, or him asking it of himself. Perhaps both.

"I'm not sure that is wise," he replies in a last ditch, and certainly futile effort to resist.

”No, but I doubt wisdom has much at all to do with it," she smiles and runs those fingers along his jaw yet again.

He closes his eyes, and lets go with a final breath, allowing her to pull him back, no choice but to follow the insistent lure of her very presence as his lips meet hers, softly, slowly, savoring the moment now. After days apart, her absence, and yet constant presence in his thoughts, causing him to realize so many of the little things about her he’d grown used to, makes him want to cling to these moments, enjoy every little nuance of her very real presence with him now.

The whole world feels more real around him with her there but it all falls away as he breathes her in, tastes her on his tongue as he explores the sweet spaces beyond her lips.

He’s vaguely aware of his hand, threading fingers through soft short hair as she leans into him, almost melting against him, the sweet warmth of her aura complementing his in the most satisfying way. He could lose himself in her this way, and for the first time he doesn’t fight it, instead letting himself indulge in the idea of such a possibility.

He knows he cannot have it, but perhaps she is right, for this moment at least, it doesn’t matter, that they can simply enjoy it for what it is.

So he does. He revels in everything he can feel of her, the soft hair and skin under his fingertips, the warmth of her body radiating through the layers of clothing as she lets herself be pulled so willingly against him. The heat of her mouth, the sweetness of every kiss and lick against each other. And through it all, the thrum of their auras, resonating in such a perfect harmony he feels helpless before it.

The minutes seem to both stretch out long, and fly by all too quickly. Every moment is savored to the fullest, but all too soon it is over, the passage of time forcing them to let go before the longing within them can cross into territory they are not prepared to go.

Without words, they both pull back slightly, breaking the kiss though he continues to hold her close. He looks into her face, skin flush and lips reddened and slightly parted as she meets his gaze. What he would give to stay with her forever, to hold onto this moment…

He lifts a hand to trace along the delicate lines of her face, brushing a finger lightly over her lips, hearing her breath catch at the action before he leans down to kiss her one final time, soft and sweet before pulling back again.

“We should go back,” he says quietly, not truly ready to do so, but knowing their time is short.

She nods and they both slowly pull away from each other, raising their hoods up against the rain which has started to pick up again.

He can feel the space between them and the longing that remains to close it, but despite that, she is near again, she is with him. It will likely not be the last time they will have to be separated on their journeys, but he certainly hopes it will not happen often.

As they head back to the camp, he ignores the voice that tries to remind him that this need to be near her is dangerous and should be fought against. He knows the argument well enough, but for tonight, he’s decided not to care.

 

* * *

 

Things return to normal again as they head back along the coast to close the remaining rifts they’d found.

He is able to take in more of the landscape this time, now that his attention is no longer focused on Lyara’s absence. Though, perhaps most of what he notices of what’s around them is what he sees her looking at.

“Your eyes often seem drawn to the sea, what is it that catches your fascination there?” he asks one afternoon as they are resting on the beach where she had just been staring out towards the rough water.

She doesn’t look at him when she replies, eyes still locked on the horizon.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the movement of water, the way the light plays off it, the shapes it takes and how they are never the same twice. The sea is so big though, so much water, it’s hard to really understand how vast and powerful it is. And there’s so much hidden beneath it, a world vaster than this one, all hidden deep beneath the waves, I can only wonder what mysteries lie in the depths so far beyond our reach.

“I’ve only seen the sea like this a couple times before, mostly I’ve just seen pictures or heard it talked about. I guess, having it right here before me, a real thing, moving and flowing like a great living thing is something I want to take in while I have the chance. We won’t be here much longer, and I’ll definitely be glad to get away from the rain, but I think I will miss seeing this a little.”

As he listens he takes in her words, the images she describes and he looks out to the water, as if seeing it for the first time himself.

Of course, he’s seen the sea countless times, even traveled upon it again and again. If it ever held any wonder for him, he has long since forgotten it. He remembers disliking sea travel because he could find so few memories within the Fade when he did, so he’d come to see it as a painfully dull place, best avoided when possible. But she looks at the sea for only itself, as if the waves before her are overflowing with the mysteries of the universe.

Looking at it through her eyes, he can begin to see some of what brings her so much of the wonder he can feel in her.

“It’s just so relaxing too, the rhythm of it, the sound and sight of the waves always breaking and washing the shore clean, again and again, never ceasing. But at the same time, it is so immensely powerful. If it were able to break free of it’s boundaries, it could sweep away everything people have created upon the land and continue on as if nothing had ever been there.”

Her voice is soft and rhythmic, the poetry of her words doing what it can to communicate the ideas he can feel within her. It makes him all the more eager to begin teaching her the Elvhen language, imagining her how she might be able to express the many thoughts and feelings, that he already finds so compelling, in the language he grew up with, a language all but dead and yet so well suited to communicating all the intricacies of life.

“I admit, I have rarely given the sea much thought, it was always just something that existed, an obstacle to be traversed between lands, but through your eyes it feels like so much more, as if I had never seen the sea before.”

He watches her nod absently in response, eyes never leaving the swells of water before her, remaining silent for several seconds, but he can tell she is preparing her words with her usual care.

“There are so many things in this world it is nearly impossible to truly consider the reality of all of them. So easy to get focused on the immediate things around us and on ourselves, looking outside all that takes conscious effort, but who wants to put effort into things that don’t seem immediately important? So, we let a lot of things pass us by, blind to their possibility. We all do it, and it isn’t always a bad thing, but sometimes I want to look at more, to expand what I can see. Sometimes I even want to force myself to look at what seems unimportant and really ask myself if it truly is unimportant. Maybe it’s just because I get bored looking at things the same way for too long, but I feel like I learn a lot this way.”

She has mentioned to him on a couple occasions that she enjoys listening to him speak sometimes, telling her about magic and the Fade. What he has never said to her is how much he also loves listening to her in these moments when she speaks about the world and people in ways he had never thought to look at them.

She makes simple things become complex and brilliant. She brings shape and color to places where there had only been blurry lines. He can see what feels like a completely different world when he looks at it through her eyes and he cannot help the wonder it fills him with.

Perhaps he should tell her one of these days, but for now he wants to hold on to the peace of the moment. They will have to start moving again soon, so he takes these final minutes to look out at the swell beside her as if seeing it for the first time.

 

 

It is a relief for them all once they are finally able to leave the Storm Coast behind, the rain slowly dropping off until their days are mostly sunny and they can feel comepletely dry for the first time in weeks.

The atmosphere among their party relaxes considerably and they are all eager to be making their way back to Haven after such a long journey. Even he will admit it will be good to rest after the many events of this most recent journey.

Still, it is a long way back and with a return to fair weather and lightened spirits comes a shift in their routines and behavior. In some ways this is good, evenings are more comfortable and productive. On the other hand, Sera is now taking it upon herself to ‘lighten the mood’ further with jokes, teasing, and pranks.

Clearly most of their number do find such antics entertaining but he still cannot help the annoyance he feels in most of these cases. During their travels, Sera sometimes singles him out with attempts to provoke a reaction. He does his best to refrain from giving her what she wants, remembering the conversation he’d had will Lavellan before they set out. He therefore responds with as much control as possible, at least making sure not to escalate the situation. It is difficult, but when he notices Lyara watching one of these exchanges, smiling sympathetically as she sees his obvious efforts at restraint, he knows it is probably worth it. He would hate to be the cause of greater tensions that could only add to the burden she carries.

Perhaps the greatest challenge on the way back is maintaining any distance between himself and Lyara. She seems to draw him in more than ever. Anytime he remembers the time of their separation he finds himself drifting closer and closer to her. In turn she seems to approach him more than before as well, sometimes to talk, others it seems, just to be near, as they continue onward in silence, content in their proximity.

Still, even when they practice or study magic together, he is careful not to touch her. He wants to, he wants to very much, which is exactly why he avoids any unnecessary contact. He fears that if he reached out to her he would not be able to let go, and this is far from an ideal circumstance to indulge in such impulses.

He tries to let the work guide his focus, hoping his efforts in instructing her in the healing techniques they are working on will keep his mind away from other things. It does help, but his awareness of her never fades, and he cannot help relishing the reality of her simple presence.

Beginning their language lessons is a particular highlight for him as well, though it does bring with it some concern. Every word of his language that he hears from her lips is beautiful and he cannot help imagining a day when they might fall as flowingly as any of the words in Common that she speaks. However, he is also aware that he is also guiding her towards the inevitable realization that they are already able to communicate in ways the rest of those around her cannot.

He has kept his ability to read her emotions a secret this entire time and he knows that she is likely on the verge of realizing it herself. He has no way to know how she may react when it becomes apparent, but he hopes she will also realize the advantages of it, such as in its use in the ancient language of their people. Perhaps that will help her come to terms with the reality of her abilities, though it is unlikely to do anything for her trust in him once she learns how long he has kept the truth from her.

He does his best not to dwell on his concerns, there is nothing he can do about the situation now. Perhaps he should have told her a long time ago, but that time is past. He’s always known it would be a matter of time and he will just have to accept the consequences of his decision to keep this particular secret. Comparatively speaking it is the least of those he is keeping, not that that offers much comfort.

As they get closer to Haven, he becomes more certain that the discovery will be soon. He can see just how much her sensitivity towards him is growing now, how often she reacts to things he never expresses outwardly. He knows the secret will be out before they can leave Haven again, and he begins to prepare himself for it, for the explanations she will inevitably ask of him, and for the possibility of her pushing him away thereafter.

He had always thought that this eventuality would be uncomfortable to bear, but now, the more he thinks about it, the more he worries over it. Their recent separation has forced him to realize just how much he has come to appreciate her presence and place in his life, and how hard it would be to lose that. Though he knows there is no way to prevent losing it eventually, he knows he _must_ walk away one day himself, he is not ready for it to be so soon.

 

 

The day they finally reach Haven is both a relief, at being given a reprieve from the rough conditions of the road for a time, and a reminder to him of what he will surely have to face all too soon.

However, not long after they walk through the gates and are greeted by the leading members of the Inquisition, requesting Lavellan’s presence, among others, in the War room, he is distracted from his thoughts by yet another demonstration of why he believes she is truly worthy of the role fate has placed her in.

He feels the now familiar rise of pride in seeing her face the three leaders as an equal among them, as someone who knows she has a position no less than theirs. She faces them and demands the chance to rest for not only herself but for those she has taken responsibility for. Though the others seem surprised by her actions, he finds that for once, he isn’t. While he might not have predicted this particular action, it fits all too well with who he now knows her to be.

A minute later they are all exchanging quick farewells for the evening as they part ways and head off to wherever they will spend the remainder of the day.

He goes to his own cabin, feeling Lyara’s presence fade with the distance between them.

After their separation on the Storm Coast, the distance now feels both easier and harder to bear. He knows she is not far and that he is likely to see her the next day, a manageable period of separation, and a distance easily closed should the need arise. At the same time, he feels her absence all that much more keenly and a part of him remembers too well when she had been past his reach.

He recalls how it hadn’t been that long ago that he’d believed keeping this distance was for the best, that it should be maintained. Logically, he knows this is still true for all the reasons it had been before, only now it seems like those reasons have lost much of their influence on him. It is a temporary condition, of course, one day their weight will be undeniable, but for now such days seem quite distant, enough so that a part of him wants to set them aside for as long as he can and enjoy these moments.

Every time he has this argument with himself it seems as if the once losing side only gets stronger. No matter how dangerous the other side suggests it could be, he listens to it less and less.

 

 

His evening passes uneventfully, his mind jumping from topic to topic, seemingly unable to settle as he casually looks through some of his more frequently used books.

His attention finally catches on something entirely outside the space he occupies as the all to familiar sensation enters the periphery of his perception.

The very realization seems to be enough to increase his heart rate.

As she nears he can already tell she is nervous, the sensation so well matching his own feeling in this moment.

He knew she was likely to visit before long, though not necessarily tonight, but he had not anticipated how different such an eventuality would make him feel this time.

So much had changed between them since their last time in Haven. Their pull on each other so much stronger, yet they both still have reservations about allowing things to move forward. The attraction on both sides is more than apparent and their efforts to battle against it are becoming more and more futile.

He wants her, he cannot deny it. If nothing else, he would have her near him, in his arms, as often as possible. He shouldn’t want it, and he cannot likely ever have it, but the desire is there nonetheless. He had thought to prepare himself before her next visit, to somehow try to rein in his feelings. But as she gets closer, he can already tell it would not matter if he had days to prepare.

He stands as he feels her near the door, calling her to enter at the knock. He watches her enter and then close the door behind her before she turns around and meets his eyes that have not moved from her from the first moment of her entrance.

Then, suddenly, she is there in front of him, close enough that he hardly needs to reach out at all…

“Solas…” her voice comes out breathless and his eyes linger on the lips that remain slightly parted in the wake of his name spoken so enticingly.

He does reach out then, brushing fingertips as if to check that she is real, the skin so warm and soft beneath the touch he cannot resist any longer and he pulls her in, smothering a small gasp with his mouth as he pulls her closer just as he’d been wishing to moments before she’d come through that door.

He can feel her aura, so close to his, a longing in it that matches his own so well. He runs his tongue across her lips gently and she opens to him immediately, letting him taste her, a sensation heightened by the slight trembling he can feel in her body. Her breath is hot as he indulges his hunger for her, relishing every gasp and shuddering breath as she clings to him.

It’s not enough. He lets his hands begin to move, slowly shifting to explore the body against him. A delicious whimper breaks free as his hands reach lower, pressing into soft flesh and he cannot help the desire to encourage more such sounds as he leaves behind her lips to explore the delicate skin of her jaw and neck. He feels the heat and tension in her rise, it is incredibly satisfying and he longs for more.

Another sweet gasp sends fire through his veins, but a moment later something shifts and he’s not sure if it starts in her aura or his, but there is a sense of standing on a precipice and all he wants is to jump off into the abyss before him, let it swallow him up as he forgets the feeling of the ground beneath his feet.

A hint of fear rears up as he realizes his own feelings and pulls back to look at the woman in his arms. Her eyes are wide with wanting and the same hint of fear he feels in himself. He longs to take away that fear and fulfill her every wish, but what of the future, their time can only be limited, how can he give her what he must eventually take away again? Giving in feels like making promises he knows he will have to one day break and he does not know if he can justify it.

The questions come to an abrupt halt as a shock of loss and pain fills the space around them, Lyara’s eyes going wide as her breath catches and she pulls back.

Of course. She has her own reservations, and though the pain he’s just sensed only lasted a moment it is long enough for him to realize his transgression. He should not have taken so much liberty and he should not lose so much control. The feeling she’d allowed him a glimpse of revealed the pain of loss and that is not something he wishes to cause, especially if others have hurt her this way before. It would be wrong for him to take advantage of the short time they have together for his own selfish desires if it would hurt her more in the end.

He begins to collect himself, to pull himself back. He must remain in control for her sake, no matter the difficulty. She already has too much to bear without him adding to it.

He releases her and begins to pull away, preparing to offer some kind of apology, but he’s stopped as she grips onto his wrist with determination.

"Wait," she says, tightening her grip. "Wait, maybe we should...talk about this."

"I'm sorry," he says and tries to pull away, "the kiss was impulsive, and ill-considered."

The smile and sense of mirth she responds him with catches him off guard and he momentarily ceases his efforts to free himself.

"And yet it keeps on happening, all the more reason we should discuss this." she says, voice light but the emotions behind her eyes seem heavy. He can feel a question there too, something asking him, almost begging him, not to walk away, to wait and listen.

Despite his many misgivings, it is not a request he can deny. He does not know what can be said on the matter but if she has something to say, he will hear her out.

Or maybe it is just that he does not truly want to walk away, that he would take any excuse to stay there a little longer.

"I– Yes, perhaps you are right," he finally tells her and gestures for her to take a seat at the table.

They arrange themselves so they are facing each other but she refuses to let go of her hold on him and he finds himself grateful for this and returns the grip, allowing their fingers to intertwine as they settle themselves in the chairs.

She seems lost in thought for a few long moments and he is not sure what she is feeling, though it seems to be something wistful and slightly sad. He tries to make sense of the last couple minutes during this pause, tries to make sense of it all. There’d been such intense desire on both their parts, and then that flash of fear and now the sadness coming from her. He realizes that the fear had only hit _after_ he’d pulled away, was she afraid he was going to reject her?

"I'm sorry if I seem...unsure,” he begins, hoping to offer some kind of reassurance if her distress is indeed his fault. “It has been a long time and...there are..." he pauses, trying to find the appropriate words.

"Considerations?" she says, finishing his sentence just as he was about to.

The surprise at her choice of words jolts him a bit.

“Yes,” he answers as calmly as he can.

Her eyes fall to their hands, clasped tight, as they hold on to each other. Their woven fingers seeming to represent just how intertwined their lives have become.

"I understand,” she replies softly, “It's been a while for me as well and ... well, like you said, there are considerations. It's not just you, I've tried to hold back too, its just...." Her voice trails off, sounding a little lost and he knows exactly what she is feeling, the struggle that seems to be so similar to his own. It’s almost as if there is only one of them in the room from how similar their feelings are, how much they clearly affect each other and their mutual struggle to deal with that amidst so many … considerations.

"I know," he says simply and he knows that she can tell it’s true.

It is a relief and a concern realizing this fact, but he doesn’t have time to focus long on that before she is speaking again.

"So, ... I guess we should decide what to do next," she says, hesitantly.

He nods but the question of what to do next is not one he has an answer for, not one that seems reasonable at least. All he can see at the moment are the two choices he has already been struggling with: to either give in, or walk away completely, yet neither seems to be very realistic at this point.

She seems to understand his hesitation and begins speaking herself, "Maybe we've been going about this the wrong way, perhaps we shouldn't fight so hard trying to resist.”

This is not what he expected to hear, not that he had any idea what expect, but the suggestion that they _stop_ resisting was not it. While a part of him certainly likes the idea, he doesn’t see how this actually solves their problems.

Before he can question too much, or offer any kind of response, she is speaking again, "We've _been_ resisting and we succeed for a while but then the tension builds up and this happens. Ever since we left Haven last time, it's been a constant battle that just results in us losing even more control every time. What if we just didn't fight so hard? I'm not saying give in, but it seems pretty obvious at this point that whatever we're feeling isn't going to just go away, we're going to have to deal with it one way or another. We can't simply stay away from each other either, we're still going to have to travel together, I still need you to teach me so much more. You remember what happened after we were apart for several days, it just brought us back to each other that much faster."

He is watching her now, listening to every word. He cannot deny the validity of the points she’s making, simple resistance only seems to work for so long before the pull they have on each other has created so much tension they can no longer resist the eventual crash. He is not sure yet where she is leading him with this train of thought, but she has so often proven herself in her ability to come up with unique and effective solutions to problems, so he continues to listen.

"Maybe instead of fighting it so much,” she continues, “we let it out in smaller, more controlled ways, as we have the opportunity.” She lifts their still connected hands slightly and squeezes, “We do this," she indicates the contact, "We, let ourselves be close rather than forcing space between us,” she goes on, “We spend time with each other when we need to, allow small touches now and then, ...maybe even kiss sometimes.”

He feels a hint of shyness at the last words and something in him clenches at the simple innocence of the sensation.

“When it feels like too much, we talk about it, we deal with it together. It's still a risk, I don't know if it will work, but it can't be worse than now. Maybe it can at least buy us time till we can figure out something better."

He takes in the words, considering them. It isn’t a solution, but it may be a way forward, at least for now. As she has already admitted, it is a risk, the chances of it doing much good are uncertain at best, but perhaps it would make the tension between them easier to bear for the time being. If they could avoid the desperate snaps of tension like they experienced just a short time ago, they might avoid moving beyond where they are prepared to venture. It also allows them some of the closeness they both long for and the selfish part of him welcomes that.

He takes a slow breath as he mulls these thoughts.

"Perhaps you are right," he admits a moment later. He’s still unsure, but it’s something, it’s more of a solution than they had before and he has nothing better to offer. "It is worth a try at least,"

He squeezes the hand still connected to his, accepting the plan.

Their eyes meet and he feels the pressure returned.

They are silent for several long moments and he can only think about the woman before him. She has done so much in what is honestly a very short time, and it has never ceased to amaze him, but it is these simple things that always seem to amaze him the most. And yet there is nothing simple about it. Whatever is between them is complicated in ways they are not even able to express to each other. She said she has her own considerations, and he cannot begin to guess what they might be, beyond her responsibilities with the Inquisition, but his own circumstances create enough problems as it is. The circumstances of their lives seem determined to simultaneously pull them together and hold them apart. It is too much to ask anyone to deal with and yet here he is.

And here she is.

He cannot imagine why, but she is here trying for the both of them. She doesn’t have to, and he shouldn’t want her to, but he cannot help but feel anything but grateful that she is here, that she is the one who is able to find even the smallest path forward.

"Thank you," he says quietly, unable to hold back the sentiment.

"For what?" she asks, confused.

He looks at her, carefully choosing his words. "For many things," he says, "but at the moment I suppose it is your understanding and the efforts you are willing to make. It is more than I deserve. I should tell you to turn your attentions elsewhere, to someone more deserving, but I feel reasonably certain you would not heed such advice and I am selfishly grateful for that."

He watches her, taking in every nuance of her reaction. He should have let her go long ago, it was wrong of him to do otherwise, but now he knows it’s too late. Despite all the uncertainty between them, he is slowly becoming certain of this feeling between them. It scares him, but everyday it seems more real.

She is quiet for a long time, and he wonders at her reaction, at the hesitance in her, but then she lifts her eyes to him again, "You're welcome. And... thank you too."

He cannot help the smile that lifts the corners of his mouth, “You’re welcome.”

There’s another pause but it isn’t long before he feels the atmosphere shift again, something uncertain.

"Solas?"

He looks up at the sound of his name and suddenly he knows. It is hardly the moment he would have chosen, but considering the level of the emotions, he should hardly be surprised.

"Am I... I feel like I might be sensing some of your emotions."

The statement settles around them, an almost palpable thing. He can sense her puzzling through the sensations, and the new realization and he knows he can no longer delay facing the consequences he knew would come from his decision to conceal this particular truth from her.

It seems somewhat ironic that it is the very emotions that seemed to bring them that much closer together, that are now what reveal something that could very well end it all instead.

He sighs, resigning himself to facing her with the full truth of this particular circumstance.

"Yes, that is most likely true. It seems you have finally become aware of this ability,” he tells her, careful to maintain an even and neutral tone.

She pauses, to take in his words and what they must mean.

"You knew I could do this?"

Even if he could not feel the surprise and confusion now suffusing the space around them, he would know it plainly by the look on her face and it is all he can do not to flinch from the look as the obvious extension to this newly realized fact becomes apparent to her.

"Does this mean you know what I'm feeling too?"

He can feel the confused jumble of emotions now spilling out of her, too much to pick out each one as she sorts through the implications of what she’s learned and struggles to find some understanding in all of it, and it is all his fault.

He takes another breath, and lets it out in another soft sigh, unable to repress the instinct, and answers, "Yes... and yes,” he tells her and waits for her eyes to meet his before he continues, forcing himself to face her directly. “Your ability has slowly been growing over time, I believe you have been subconsciously picking up on my emotions for some time now. Tonight's circumstances were likely strong enough to bring it into your conscious awareness."

He takes another breath, doing his best to focus on the facts and explaining them as clearly as he can, he can worry about the consequences later. If she walks out and leaves at the end and doesn’t return, he can face that then. He supposes it would solve their earlier concerns, though the thought is in no way comforting. His only hope now is to simply be honest and express his regret for having kept this secret from her for so long.

"I have been able to sense your emotions from the beginning, though how well I am able to do so at any given time depends on a number of factors. There are times when you have been able to completely block me out, others when you are almost projecting the feelings at me. It has also gotten slightly easier as we have gotten closer. However, I am sorry if you feel in any way violated by this information. I realize you will likely view this as a breach of privacy. In my defense, I can only say that as you become more aware of this ability, you will likely notice it is not so easy to block out such information without losing all awareness to magic as well, which was not something I thought wise to risk. I can assure you I have done what I can to respect your privacy to the best of my ability, and would never seek to use this skill to manipulate or hurt you in any way.

"Even so, perhaps I should have been honest from the start and told you of these abilities, I was simply unsure how you might react and feared you would no longer accept my help. That being said, if you would wish me to keep my distance from you now, I will do so," he finishes.

All he can hope now is that she believes him. To this end he keeps himself open to her, so that she may use her newly realized ability to sense the truth for herself. It cannot possibly excuse what he has done, but he owes her that at least.

She is quiet for some time and he remains silent, allowing her to process everything, waiting for her to decide the next move.

He almost laughs when the first words she speaks are a question, in even the same tone she so often uses when seeking information. He answers unhesitatingly and then gives her what time she needs to assess his answers. Even so, he can feel her beginning to close off the more she thinks everything through, pulling back, pulling away.

He offers to teach her control over the ability, of course he will, she has that right. It may be his only opportunity to be near her from now own. As she had mentioned earlier, she will still be in need of help with her magic, at least for now. But there are other mages, and he has no doubt she could find some replacement for him.

What he is able to sense from her is much reduced now, clearly the reflexive closing off he has felt from her often enough before, but he can still feel the change and it pains him, more than he had thought possible.

"Solas..."

Her voice is soft, but the silence that follows tells him she is waiting for him to look at her again. He is unsure what he will find there but he looks up to meet her eyes.

"Perhaps you can teach me that at our next lesson. Would it be okay if I come by sometime tomorrow?"

If her words did not express her intentions clearly, what she now allows him to feel does. There is still the sense of shock and confusion, still hints of fear, that the initial revelation had caused, but there is also a kind of acceptance. She is not going to leave, she will come back. She will demand more answers and the knowledge to now control these abilities, and the trust between them is certainly damaged, but she will come back. She will give him another chance.

Oh how she amazes him again and again. She continues to offer so much more than he deserves, but he would be a fool not to accept.

"Yes," he finally says, doing his best to keep his own emotions in check, ”I believe that is a reasonable suggestion."

She squeezes his hand. He had almost forgotten about the point of contact but now he holds tight to it, grateful that she had not pulled away completely at her discovery.

"I should probably go soon," she says and stands, "We're meeting in the war room first thing in the morning."

He rises beside her, “You should see that you are well rested then.”

He doesn’t want her to leave, a part of him afraid that she will reconsider her decision once they are separated, but he also cannot hold her back from her many responsibilities, too much rests on her shoulders and he will not become more of a burden. He is selfish enough already.

She hesitates though, doesn’t let go of his hand, doesn’t move towards the door.

Instead she speaks.

”Before I go, Could you... Would you mind...holding me for a minute?"

Her voice is quiet, the hint of shyness returning, but it is a true request and he almost feels his heart stop at the words.

A moment later he is pulling her closer, giving in to his own matching desire, wrapping his arms tight around her, feeling her body pull in against him. “Of course,” he answers once she is as close as they can manage, and he breathes in the scent of her hair, taking comfort in her, just as he offers it in return.

"Thank you," she whispers back.

_”Always.”_

He speaks in Elvhen but he’s sure she can understand the intention now.

He says nothing else, only holds her tighter, but he knows that really, he is the one who should be thanking her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all my dear readers!!  
> Hope you are all doing well!!
> 
> This is almost completely caught up with the main story. Redcliffe is coming up really soon for both, I can't wait to get there and from some of the comments I've seen, I think most of you are looking forward to it too. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think, or even just say hi if you'd like. You guys mean the world to me!
> 
> Take care!!

**Author's Note:**

> For updates, or just to chat you can always follow me on tumblr [@mayonaka-no-tenshi](https://mayonaka-no-tenshi.tumblr.com%20)


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